“There are no words that can truly do justice to it. Any of it. And that’s why I never say anything. Because people in stories always blurt everything out and it turns out right, but that’s not real life and this is. So I keep my mouth shut.
But you’re beautiful. Like the sun coming up over the emerald hills or the raindrops on a bloody red rose. Beautiful in a way that cameras could never capture and photoshop could never even imagine. You’re adorable, like the yawn of a kitten or the sneeze of a very small, rather stupid little dog. You’re perfect, like the way the cake looks on the cake frosting kit, and just as completely flawed as the actual cake when anybody actually tries to make it. No one can steal your beauty and no fairy can take away your silly dreams.
So I pretend it doesn’t matter, because you’d never believe any of it if I told you. I think you’re fantastic and hilarious and painfully cute but if I ever told you you’d think I wanted something, that I was trading that for whatever I wanted to take from you; that’s okay, you’ve never known any different. I promise I won’t say a word. I promise no one ever needs to know from me how sweet you are. I’ll go around saying you’re obnoxious and ridiculous because that’s the only language you understand. But honestly? Darling, if I could have anything I’d ask for your happiness, and then I’d give it to you for your un-birthday and never let you give me anything in return.
Why? You don’t realize it, but I owe you. I owe you for showing me things about myself I never knew—things I love and things I absolutely hate, but things. Real things. Human things. And you see through people’s petty little lies and you tell them the truth, even if they don’t want to hear it.
So go on, baby. Go out into the world and make it shine that little bit brighter. Go out and fill life with sunshine and brush away the cobwebs with your laughter. Write things and doodle your little stick figures and believe in things even when no one else wants to.
Because you’re beautiful. Like the moon in the clouds and the fireflies rising up out of the grass in summer at sunset. You’re fantastic, like dragons and fairies and those silly little things nobody thinks are real anymore. Your smile makes everything else unimportant and ridiculous and pasty in comparison, and when your eyes sparkle they turn to liquid gold. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, and don’t you dare think that’s special, because it’s not. It’s just me and you and everyone else. It’s just darkness and light and gibberish and those funny plastic cars in “Life”.
You were the first one to ever care, you know. Even for a little while. And I don’t want to lose that. You were the first one to see the new me and actually not mind. I could make you laugh—and I’m not good at that, so maybe you were just faking, but it doesn’t really matter anymore. All that matters is that there really is nothing very special about me, and everything about you is special. Special, precious, as gold and rubies and those little bits of melty chocolate inside Lindt bonbons.
Forget it. All of it. You never needed to know any of this. Maybe someday someone braver will tell you, because they’re not afraid. But I’m content to sit back and watch you sparkle. I don’t mind paling in comparison, so long as they’re comparing me to you.
So stop worrying. You are perfect, unpretentious, unprotected, unforgettable, and undeniably delightful. It’s funny, isn’t it? You’ll never read this; why should you? Why should you ever? Even if you did you’d never know I was talking to you.
That’s all. All I wanted to let you know. All I loved about you. All the little funny things you do, like singing when you think no one’s listening, and the way you roll your golden eyes. I make you sound great, don’t I? Like something unreachable, completely flawless. But that’s the best part, darling—that you’re all the better for the fact that your flaws don’t need to matter. Not “flawless” but “flawful”. Which sounds terrible but is really much less laughable and confusing than it sounds.
Keep dreaming, kid. Keep dreaming. And don’t forget.
I just know I’ll never forget you.”
She stood up from her desk, taking the sheet of paper with her to the window. The light was dimming outside, and a chilled breeze swept in, pushing past her and ruffling her hair. With a little shudder, she brushed a ringlet from her eyes and folded the bit of paper up. It was doubly small when she finished, and sniffling, she swept a tear from her cheek, and threw it to the four winds, and watched it rise up, seeming to glide a moment, caught in a beam of fading sunlight.
Then it tumbled into the murky waters, and was forever lost to sight.
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