I didn’t know you then, but I sure as hell knew the signs of someone hurting and trying to put a brave face on. I’ve been there myself, you know that by now. I sat there beside you for a few minutes not saying a word, not wanting to disturb the apparent peace that you were obtaining from venting on that little notepad of yours. I pretended that I was looking at my own notes, and I couldn’t help but notice you sheepishly looking at what I was studying. I guess you got way too curious, because you actually sat there reading them without realizing I was watching you with a smile on my face, and by the time you did notice I was way too amused to pretend I didn’t catch you. I thought you were going to say that you were sorry, that you hadn’t meant to pry or something inbetween those lines, but what you said surprised me and made me want to kneel in front of you and ask you to marry me (yeah I know, gross, right?). You told me that I was wrong, that Plato had never said that quote, that I was mistaking it for Aritotle and that it was a huge error for someone who is apparently studying philosophy. I swear, that was the moment when I vowed to myself that I was never going to get into any arguments with you. Who the hell says something like that right after crying and being absolutely vulnerable to a total stranger, possibly offending that said stranger or alienating him?
I know you well enough by now to know that arguing is your way to run away from your own insecurities. It’s your defence mechanism, and it was in overdrive when I first met you. I’m incredibly proud for having survived your wrath those first few months; you were unbelievably tireless, picking retorical fights whenever and wherever I took you. You argued about things you afterwards confessed to not having any idea, and still you left the poor bastards feeling like they had been emasculated by your reasoning. It was quite a show you pulled off at the parties you went to with me, and by being quite the verbal enemy of nearly anyone who was willing to talk to you, you made me and all of my friends fall unconditionaly in love with you (in a platonic way, obviously).
Why am I telling you this? Well, first of all I know about your email fetishsm. You love long and deep emails (and by deep I mean meaningful, pervert!), so I thought about pleasing your ego – or the lack of it for that matter- a bit after the whatsapp conversation that we had against you a few nights ago. You know we were messing, and it was our own retalihation for having beaten our confidence with every statement you’ve made in the past few months. We were attacking you because we were defending what was left of our intelligence. Don’t flatter yourself, though. Some of us were taking it easy because of your… condition (I still feel weird every time I mention it to you) and now you’re going to start having real mature conversations with us people who tend to confuse Plato quotes. Secondly, I feel like you need a reminder of how special you are. You don’t say it out loud, you don’t trust us with such information. But we’re not fools, and although you enjoy locking yourself up to paint and read literature of questionable reputation (and study, of course), we do know you. You’re hurting. I don’t know why, we don’t know why. But I know there is something in that beautiful head of yours -and yes, I said beautiful just to spite you- that is making you a recluse. Our duty is to stop that from happening. You are well aware of that, that’s why you’re avoiding any whatsapp conversation we initiate. DO NOT DO THAT or we will be forced to invade your home and get you out of that artsy room of yours. You might not be hurting for the same reasons you were hurting the first time I talked to you (and if you are, I swear to god there will be hell to pay). I believe you’re having an identity crisis of sorts. You’re quite the existentialist, eventhough you try to convince yourself of being a nihilist. And I’m guessing that you loved that little philosophical reference and that you’re about to refute it by more philosophical stuff that you find on the internet and in the books that you have at home, but please that was not my intention! Don’t mold this email into your own battlefield.
You might not believe in it anymore. You might not aknowledge it to us, or even to yourself. You might be afraid of it. But you love us. And I (we) am (are) not afraid to tell you that I (we) love you, too.
Let the people who are capable and brave enough to love you take care of you. Being vulnerable does not mean being weak, and getting help does not make you dependent because “need” is something that you’ve mastered to control, and so you’ve made sure that you don’t need any of us. So, in order for you to understand where we’re coming from, I’m going to talk about loyalty. Loyalty is the feeling of allegiance. In feudal society, loyalty was materialized in the obligations of a vassal to his liege lord. And while you’re no master to any of us (you’re only the Mother of Notes), we certainly do have obligations to fulfill where you are concerned. You are the one who constantly talks about responsabilty and the need for people to commit to what they say by logical following actions. Well, the logical course of action here is to make this little interventation so you can come back to us loyal vassals and put us out of our misery with your sharp tongue. We’re getting bored to death here, Mother of Notes! See? This is just another evidence that shows that your Aristotelian thesis about selfishness and altruism is right! We’re being selfish here by pursuing you!
So… pick up the f*cking phone right now!
[And so it ended. Like I said, I’m speechless. Emails like this one make me commensurably happier and with the permission of the author, I posted it here to… honestly, to brag a bit about the friends I have and to nurture my own ego! Sometimes we all need people to remind us that we’re not alone in whatever stupid situation that has us feeling a bit out of it.]