“Only connect!” (Howard’s End by E.M. Forster)
I don't know if you've realised this, but there's always been a thin veneer of sorrow to you. I know o...
“Only connect!” (Howard’s End by E.M. Forster)
I don't know if you've realised this, but there's always been a thin veneer of sorrow to you. I know on a day to day basis, you're actually quite happy; you've got a lot going on to occupy you – family, friends, your nephews, writing, a job you love and you work out more than any sane man would. I wouldn’t say you hide it well, cause I don’t think concealment was ever on your agenda. I feel like it’s just something that slipped off the radar and went undetected under the surface.
How do you mean?
You're not allowing yourself to be vulnerable. I don't mean between us. Not within the confines of platonic love. You're my friend and I love you dearly. But in a romantic capacity. When was the last time you felt excited about anyone? Went out on a date? Are there butterflies? Or have they withered away like moths in the attic.
There's a tinge of longing, of wistfulness, to your words and what you do – who else has a reading copy of "Call Me By Your Name" that's been highlighted and annotated? You were distraught after watching the film, Anis. And the books, poetry and songs you listen to. I don’t know anyone else who references Orlando or White Teeth, saves Instagram posts on life and romance, or has Chopin on repeat. Whenever I argue with X, you always have the best insight –
Ironic, isn't it? How your single friends always give the best relationship advice? And you should really read "Mating in Captivity" by Esther Perel.
Yes, but my point is: you zoom in on these things. You could be watching some skit on YouTube, but instead, you're staring at Klimt's "Fulfillment" on your phone. Or reading the relationship column on the New York Times. And you fixate on the elements of the books you read, like that dialogue between Marjane Satrapi's parents in Persepolis. Or captioning your photos with quotes from Christina Rossetti.
I'm assuming you have a point?
I just want you to be happy, Anis. And to find that courage – to be vulnerable again.
Possibly one of the most uncomfortable conversations I’ve had to have. 2018, you’re on your way out – but you’re helping me draft new chapters for 2019.
