The one that taught me what kind of person I wanted to be, and what kind I didn’t. Bone-straight hair and a lightness that melted people. You could have one conversation with this girl, and you’d glow for hours. Everything she wore looked like it was made for her; if it was too big, it hung effortlessly from her wiry frame. She was the envy of every girl, and the intrigue for every boy. Still is, I assume. At once, she taught me how to celebrate human difference while resolutely maintaining her sense of self. I’ll always appreciate that.
To the girl with too many sillies. I know you.
The unimportant one who taught me what naive and intense heart sickness feels like. I barely remember what his face looked like, but I didn’t eat for days. We had a snowball fight once, our team won.
The one that grew on me slowly. You have such a kind heart, even if you speak so fast it sometimes doesn’t compute.
The brother whose every tiny success feels like a million. I didn’t know how much I could love someone.
The boy with the funny accent who can make me laugh with a sidelong glance. You’re one of the good ones.
The one with the kindest heart I know. Forever and ever, she will radiate a kind of purity that makes you wonder if bullshit like gossip and cattiness even exists.
The 98 year old regular that reminded me every day that life’s all about routine. I hope your steak sandwich tastes as good tomorrow as it did today. And no, I will not sit on your lap.
To the woman who validated my reasons for feeling uncertain, insecure, and sometimes imperfect.
The male friend I have and don’t deserve. When I struggle, he helps me fix it with an intensity that demonstrates how much he loves me - and I don’t know why. He is the furthest thing from artificial in the best possible way; he tells me when I’m wrong, lets me chip away at his character when I need to, and sleeps on the couch after I’ve forced him to share the bed, and then hog it.
To the girl who doesn’t judge me when I want to eat three brunches. Or get silly drunk to the point of tears. We’re so different, yet kind of the same. Thanks for being my most loyal friend, like a hand print on my heart.
To the best kisser in the world, move to Canada. Learn English. and ditch the beads.
To the one that re-charged my batteries and incited a love for food that only seems to grow. You’re a beautiful person.
To the woman who works cash at the Mac-Correy cafeteria. Your smiling face routinely makes my chocolate milk taste that much sweeter. I admire your dedication to providing exact change.
To the guy that bought me a beer because he saw me from across the bar, yet didn’t have time to stay. Thank you.
The one that insisted I occupy space within my own life instead of existing on its peripheries. Thanks for putting up with my uncles. And me. I still haven’t quite figured it out.
To the one that reminds me of the vast disparities I sometimes ignore between myself and others. She never lets me rest in ignorance.
The friend that reminded me, after many years of being shy, that it’s perfectly alright to be an English nerd. Hell, everyone is passionate about something.
The officer at Gatwick that let me stand to the side before going through security so I could catch my breathe and wipe my eyes.
To that girl I tolerate because I need to, but secretly cannot stand. You’ve provided me with a framework for how not to exist in the real world.
To the guy with the floppy hair and what I remember as an infectious and irresistible charisma. I miss you, but I hope I never experience a love as claustrophic and unsettling as ours ever again. I’m so glad you’re happy, I’m so glad I’m happy.
To the Professor that taught the lectures on Roy’s The God of Small Things. I’m still studying English, which may or may not be a good thing.
To the boy everyone loves. They love you for a reason.
The guy that knew himself less than he knew me. I hope you’re happier now.
To that guy at a bar a few years back that didn’t freak out on me when I dropped the shot he bought me…twice.
To the many, many stu-cons that didn’t chuck me out of on-campus bars. Thanks for turning a blind eye.
My friend’s mother, who continually serves as an example of how to construct healthy, warm, and stable relationships. You wrote me the nicest card I’ve ever received.
The one I miss every single day. You’re the most interesting person I’ve ever met.
The one I know will be my maid of honour. After everything in my life, you’re a given.