Leftover Thai food, broken chopsticks, and what is left of my vanilla scented candle are what sit beside me as I type the beginning of this post, the latter enticing me with its clear pool of hot wax, the former just a soupy mess of spicy coconut milk that I refuse to eat because, after two days, it already has all the good stuff picked out. Okay, I did it. I dipped eight fingers (the thumbs wouldn't fit) into the wax and peeled it all off. It brought me more pleasure than it probably should have.
Well. Now that I'm in my element. Friends, this is a special post. A post that's very very important to me. I'm going to write and write and write until it's worthy of her possession, but first I'm throwing down lots of pillows and blankets and asking you to feel welcome. We're celebrating my very lovely friend Claire, whose eloquence and beauty makes me aspire to be like her. Every day.
Whew. Ok. Soupy Thai food, broken chopsticks, scented candle, and the looming greatness of putting something beautiful into words. I've put it into feelings, I've pieced it together with music, but words? Hard to do. I don't know how it's going to come, or if it's even going to make sense, but nevertheless, I will tell you what I can. And being given the opportunity to write a letter to (one of) one's best friends is such a beautiful invitation. Nothing I'd rather do. But words are hard to find.
May be the candle that I'm almost sure is making me high...may be für elise in the background...may be the raw emotion of just knowing her...or the sheer beauty in these memories, but regardless...I'm a mess. And I guess that's okay.
I love talking to my friends on twitter. Every single moment. They annoy me to death and make me regret creating a twitter sometimes, but I would do it again. A trillion times over. I love knowing, no matter what happens, that I'm not alone. That it's me and so many other people there to help me. I couldn't wait to be part of a support system for the people who are such huge parts of mine, and what I wouldn't do... oh for the love of all things holy, what I wouldn't do to go back and meet some of them all over again. I would know how close we would eventually come, and I would approach them more with compassion and caring rather than hesitation and intimidation. I love having friends like them. Love it, love it, love it. That is one of the most beautiful things that could happen to a human. Ever.
So anyway, in the middle of all these friends, there's one of the most wonderful, beautiful people ever. She's just good and kind and she always let's me lean on her for anything... and I never worry about anything because I have no reason to. Not with all the support and wisdom she gives me. Funny... since meeting her and asking for advice on things I'm worried about, many of my friends who are going through those same issues will ask "did you have to do this? were you nervous about that? did you.... blah blah blah". And I honestly cannot remember ever ever feeling nervous or anxious if I talked to her.
May be the candle that I'm almost sure is making me high...may be für elise in the background...may be the raw emotion of just knowing her...or the sheer beauty in these memories, but regardless...I'm a mess. And I guess that's okay.
I love talking to my friends on twitter. Every single moment. They annoy me to death and make me regret creating a twitter sometimes, but I would do it again. A trillion times over. I love knowing, no matter what happens, that I'm not alone. That it's me and so many other people there to help me. I couldn't wait to be part of a support system for the people who are such huge parts of mine, and what I wouldn't do... oh for the love of all things holy, what I wouldn't do to go back and meet some of them all over again. I would know how close we would eventually come, and I would approach them more with compassion and caring rather than hesitation and intimidation. I love having friends like them. Love it, love it, love it. That is one of the most beautiful things that could happen to a human. Ever.
So anyway, in the middle of all these friends, there's one of the most wonderful, beautiful people ever. She's just good and kind and she always let's me lean on her for anything... and I never worry about anything because I have no reason to. Not with all the support and wisdom she gives me. Funny... since meeting her and asking for advice on things I'm worried about, many of my friends who are going through those same issues will ask "did you have to do this? were you nervous about that? did you.... blah blah blah". And I honestly cannot remember ever ever feeling nervous or anxious if I talked to her.
It's been almost half a year since this one graced me with her beauty.
I followed Claire one afternoon in September. A decision that must have seemed trivial and impulsive at first, but, in the long run, that trivial, impulsive decision turned out to be not so trivial and completely, beautifully, wonderfully full-circle impulsive. I wanted to know who she was, why everyone loved her, what about her had stolen my entire timeline's heart.
I know now.
The other day, Savanna said "You treat Claire and everyone else like your sisters more than you treat me like your sister."
Sister, she is. Bucket filler.
There’s also a pretty rad connection between Claire and I. We know each other through photos, messages, twitter and Skype. A different world from 10 years ago. And this foundation brings it. Bucket filler.
It's a birthday. The celebration of a birth day, and the most beautiful, lively, intimate person I've ever met. And the fact that 7 months ago I was unsure of whether or not to follow her, but I made the absolute best choice. And the fact that I'm so happy she was born.
Her birthday. The anniversary of gratitude for every gift her life has given us. She is full of light and magic and beauty, and it's hard to put all of that into words. All of who she is. For certainly without saying it, that light and magic and beauty exists for me and Rafa, Sofia, Hudson, Grace, and Carina and those who know her well. Who she is is immeasurable and admirable beyond limits.
Yes, I'm so happy she was born.
It's a birthday. The celebration of a birth day, and the most beautiful, lively, intimate person I've ever met. And the fact that 7 months ago I was unsure of whether or not to follow her, but I made the absolute best choice. And the fact that I'm so happy she was born.
Her birthday. The anniversary of gratitude for every gift her life has given us. She is full of light and magic and beauty, and it's hard to put all of that into words. All of who she is. For certainly without saying it, that light and magic and beauty exists for me and Rafa, Sofia, Hudson, Grace, and Carina and those who know her well. Who she is is immeasurable and admirable beyond limits.
Yes, I'm so happy she was born.
And trying to tell her how much she means to me is a challenge so daunting that it just might not be possible.
But I'll try, rest assured.
Without further ado...
But I'll try, rest assured.
Without further ado...
***
Claire,
Last November, you wrote a twitlonger. I think, after reading that, I truly started acknowledging you and realizing how remarkable you are, and observing all of the love you unleash with your little obsessions and rants and passions and words.
That twitlonger confirmed what I knew to be true: That no, I'm not alone. That there are other beautiful, kindred people who go through pain and loss and suffering.
When you wrote that, you were so broken. And it hurts to address that.
But what a girl you've become. A happy fairy of a thing who seeps life and spirit into your Claire aura. Fifteen. Fifteen years of beauty and grace and your spirit unleashed with your smile. And at the times when you were terribly sad. When you shut down because you didn't know what else to do. When you were truly consumed by your depression to the point where it seemed you may just be eaten alive.
You've come a long way, you know.
Somewhere and somehow, you leaned in. You figured it out on your own. You had to decide on your own to lean into that situation and realize that happy is a beautiful place to be. And you worked so hard to get there for us and for you, something I'm very grateful for. I'd love to think something I said or did caused that turning point for you, but I'm going to have to say it was all you, baby. You had to experience it, you had to wait, you had to be uncomfortable for awhile until you could begin healing.
There was one thing you told me in those early months, something I'll never forget.
"I hide my feelings, because no one wants to talk to a person who's crying all the time, you know?"
I don't want you to ever feel that way again. If you have to cry, cry until you can't cry anymore, because we will love you through it and we will help you as best we can and we will not pass judgement, and in doing so, we will remind you that We. Are. Always. Here. But you have to tell us. Please.
***
Okay, wasn't expecting to write all of that on that particular time, but I'm glad I did. That was stressing me out.
It was six months ago. The beginning of knowing someone extraordinary. I wonder sometimes what heaven is like. And I think that perhaps, if it really is as wonderful as we hope it is that someday when I leave this earth I will re-enter those moments of learning and love from you and our other friends, because it's one of the most insightful, lovely, sweetest heavens I've ever experienced and I could relive those moments infinitely. Especially since it's all we have until we meet, you know.
Claire, there is no way I could ever tell you how much I love you. How I smile when I see how mature you are in every way, yet how your heart is so young and wild and caring and unpredictable and undeniably you.
I'm not sure if you remember this, but last December, in early hours of the morning when not many people were online, five or ten of us came together to have a real, raw discussion about life and love and friendship and loss and growth. You started it of course, (whenever you throw out an idea it often releases this an entire dam of thoughts I've had for awhile) stating something along the lines of "Why do I always have these really intense emotional friendships and then suddenly we haven't talked in months?" And from there it just sky rocketed to a timeline conversation of mutuals agreeing and mutuals reminiscing and mutuals getting everything out as the mutuals often do when this type of conversation occurs. You and I somehow ended up talking this topic over in DMs, and I was amazed to find that we were one in the same when it came to love and appreciation for friends. And now, once again, I don't know if you'll remember this, but I said "I wish we had a closer friendship." And do you know what you said back? "Can we please?"
Last November, you wrote a twitlonger. I think, after reading that, I truly started acknowledging you and realizing how remarkable you are, and observing all of the love you unleash with your little obsessions and rants and passions and words.
That twitlonger confirmed what I knew to be true: That no, I'm not alone. That there are other beautiful, kindred people who go through pain and loss and suffering.
When you wrote that, you were so broken. And it hurts to address that.
But what a girl you've become. A happy fairy of a thing who seeps life and spirit into your Claire aura. Fifteen. Fifteen years of beauty and grace and your spirit unleashed with your smile. And at the times when you were terribly sad. When you shut down because you didn't know what else to do. When you were truly consumed by your depression to the point where it seemed you may just be eaten alive.
You've come a long way, you know.
Somewhere and somehow, you leaned in. You figured it out on your own. You had to decide on your own to lean into that situation and realize that happy is a beautiful place to be. And you worked so hard to get there for us and for you, something I'm very grateful for. I'd love to think something I said or did caused that turning point for you, but I'm going to have to say it was all you, baby. You had to experience it, you had to wait, you had to be uncomfortable for awhile until you could begin healing.
There was one thing you told me in those early months, something I'll never forget.
"I hide my feelings, because no one wants to talk to a person who's crying all the time, you know?"
I don't want you to ever feel that way again. If you have to cry, cry until you can't cry anymore, because we will love you through it and we will help you as best we can and we will not pass judgement, and in doing so, we will remind you that We. Are. Always. Here. But you have to tell us. Please.
***
Okay, wasn't expecting to write all of that on that particular time, but I'm glad I did. That was stressing me out.
It was six months ago. The beginning of knowing someone extraordinary. I wonder sometimes what heaven is like. And I think that perhaps, if it really is as wonderful as we hope it is that someday when I leave this earth I will re-enter those moments of learning and love from you and our other friends, because it's one of the most insightful, lovely, sweetest heavens I've ever experienced and I could relive those moments infinitely. Especially since it's all we have until we meet, you know.
Claire, there is no way I could ever tell you how much I love you. How I smile when I see how mature you are in every way, yet how your heart is so young and wild and caring and unpredictable and undeniably you.
I'm not sure if you remember this, but last December, in early hours of the morning when not many people were online, five or ten of us came together to have a real, raw discussion about life and love and friendship and loss and growth. You started it of course, (whenever you throw out an idea it often releases this an entire dam of thoughts I've had for awhile) stating something along the lines of "Why do I always have these really intense emotional friendships and then suddenly we haven't talked in months?" And from there it just sky rocketed to a timeline conversation of mutuals agreeing and mutuals reminiscing and mutuals getting everything out as the mutuals often do when this type of conversation occurs. You and I somehow ended up talking this topic over in DMs, and I was amazed to find that we were one in the same when it came to love and appreciation for friends. And now, once again, I don't know if you'll remember this, but I said "I wish we had a closer friendship." And do you know what you said back? "Can we please?"
I reacted appropriately.
Like maybe I fell off the couch.
Like maybe I fell off the couch.
So I replied, "How do two people go about becoming close?" Neither of us knew. So we just did what we knew best. We talked and we skyped and we opened up to each other. And day to day, nothing really changed, but looking back, I think it happened somewhere in all the in-betweens of holidays and celebrations and big events. This is my thing. My mission, my passion, my niche. If we could have a neighborhood parade throwing candy every Sunday for no better reason than because the last day of the week should be celebrated—well, sign me up. Life is beautiful, Baby.
And while yes, I thrive on holiday adrenaline and birthday party planning sessions, it's the in-between that is truly worthy of celebration.
I think all of the big moments and all of the small moments should be represented in one post, because really, they're both important.
And while yes, I thrive on holiday adrenaline and birthday party planning sessions, it's the in-between that is truly worthy of celebration.
I think all of the big moments and all of the small moments should be represented in one post, because really, they're both important.
Secrets and plans told quickly and sincerely with swears of secrecy and down-lows.
DMs shared back and forth under the comfort of cold sheets and recognition that she is beautiful and I love knowing her.
Complaints of boredom during vacation, complaints of being too busy during school.
Twitlonger masterpieces screenshotted and saved for bad days.
And random I love you's between all of it... just because.
Claire, I love all of these kinds of moments we share together, but writing this letter is reminding me of all the little things I love about you. Not about "our friendship" really. About you.
I love your mood-lifting sarcasm.
Your hair.
Your wit.
Your contagious laughter.
The way you pay attention to everyone.
Your style.
When my notifications ding with a message from you.
The way you celebrate your friends' successes.
The way you challenge me when I need to hear it.
Any attempt at attaching words to something that words simply refuse to do justice to seems so lowly and unworthy.
You set the pace. You blaze the trail of love, and how easy it is to follow you. You are compassionate, spirited, independent and someone who likes to find her own way. You are witty and silly, caring and kind. You are a sunny little pixie and every dream and thought I ever had my entire life about friendship just can't compare with the reality of you and how beautifully you play the role of being a friend.
And, while there's a lot more I could say, I want you to know that you've been evolving so beautifully lately into crazy little layers to the point where I am numbed with admiration and thankfulness for everything you are.
Thank you for everything you are. I'm so happy you were born.
Happy birthday, angel.
-Naomi
***
Thankful for all of her.
And the fact that the crazy birthday weekend has come to an end. (Almost)
Happy birthday, Claire. I love you.
And, while there's a lot more I could say, I want you to know that you've been evolving so beautifully lately into crazy little layers to the point where I am numbed with admiration and thankfulness for everything you are.
Thank you for everything you are. I'm so happy you were born.
Happy birthday, angel.
-Naomi
***
Thankful for all of her.
And the fact that the crazy birthday weekend has come to an end. (Almost)
Happy birthday, Claire. I love you.
No comments:
Post a Comment