Dear sometimes you drive me crazy

but I say that with love.

We are essentially the same person — meaning we understand who the other person is, what they are doing and why. With that knowledge, we are able to present a clear and logical thinking for the other that we cannot rationally do for ourselves.

There is one exception to this. Your extra version. You love people so much, and I just cannot (or perhaps will not) relate. But, you should know that I — and no doubt the others around you — feel protected and encompassed by that love (and yes, sometimes it can be confining).

Around you I let my true self show. I am self-conscious, neurotic, and proud. I can — and frequently do — say my mind without fear of misinterpretation (or worse, the realization of misinterpretation after I’ve already said something). Thank you for that. Thank you for being you, and for letting me be me.

Thank you also for your unwavering support. When we have the same conversation over and over again, you do more than humour me, you listen. Together, we analyse new information, consider different interpretations of the same facts, and actively seek evidence to support or contradict our theories — both those realistic and unreasonable.

It may not be healthy, but it is what it is and what it is, is invaluable.

I am excited both about our journeys, and also about the destination. While neither of us know where or when that end point lies, I have an image of us being grumpy old women, sitting and commiserating about our younger, livelier days. Until this is realised, we’ll have to survive on messages, emails and calls (with the occasional vacation slash you moving to New York). Losing touch would be like losing a limb. Let’s not have that, shall we?