Thank you for the postcard. I think that sculpture of the little king looks like you. He's got your eyes. I'm touched that you thought to send me something from all the way over there. It was unexpected. Then again, you never were one to be predictable.
When we were together, I was always surprised at how you would respond to me. Your comments always caught me off guard. They were often harsh. I got in the habit of saying things with the intent to impress you. Trying to be as witty as I thought you were. Caring about your opinion more than mine. It took a lot of energy. I don't think it made me very attractive.
I kept coming back to you. I said I needed more but I kept coming back to you. You were a challenge. Underneath your harshness was a secret world of affection. A secret that few people saw. An intimacy so sweet and loving. I thought that if I held on tight enough I would bring you out of your shell. But it wasn't my job to change you. You didn't need changing.
Thank you for being you. It took years to be able to accept you the way you are. It helped that you moved away. It helped that I gave up on pretending you could be someone you're not. Pretending that I could. Pretending it would work.
I once told you that I cherished the distance between us and I couldn't speak to you anymore. That was a dick move. I can be harsh too. I'm happy that we still talk, even if it's once or twice a year. I'm happy that there's no tension, no wanting, and no trying. Thank you for the postcard.