camera obscura

i have a poster of new york on my wall, from circa 1980. the grid hasn’t changed much. if i look carefully enough, i can even pinpoint the exact location of your apartment, the one i was in last summer. at the time, we weren’t even friends yet.

camera obscura: distance indeed puts things at a perspective. a tiny part of me had hoped the change in landscape and time zone would favor me, not her. but bonds, as strong as they are, can dilute if not taken care of. the effects of imperfect focus are starting to wear at me now.

it’s hard not to feel gutted when you see people move on without you. in many respects, technology has not aided my ability to bounce back from unrequited feelings. it’s painful to write this but it’s even harder to keep it bottled up and one day, uncork the bottle to discover hope dried up.

at the second sichuan restaurant we went to, i slid my hand across the table to touch yours when you talked about your family because i saw another side of you that i so desperately ached to protect. that vulnerability, the humanness, will always be something i fall hard and deeply for. time has dulled my memories since but i remember with an aching clarity of how you made me feel, and how we laughed, and how you got so angry when you saw someone else trying to hurt me.

i hope i can be as good of a friend as you are. i carry those learnings in my heart, just as i carry you in mine.

by writing this here, i hope you read it one day. i don’t have the courage still to tell you how i really feel about you. i don’t have the strength to give my heart away. but i do have so much love and appreciation for the moments we shared, knowing that those don’t come easily.

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