So you want us to stay friends.
Why should we not, after all?
Wouldn’t it be a pity to turn our backs on each other now?
Or worse, to be angry or unnecessarily dramatic?
Still, we must go our separate ways…
You don’t like roses so I am not going to send you thorny goodbye roses, virtual or otherwise.
The only flower I gave you withered and died, either because it was not watered enough or because you soaked it in tears – we’ll never clear that up.
What was was, what is is, and what will be will be, with or without you.
But what if some day, by accident or by some deliberate chance, we find ourselves in some old haunt of ours and you tilt your little head a little, exposing, there on your neck, above your rainbow scarf, a softness and a pleasure spot dizzy and loud?
Ah, what then?
Nothing of course.
For friends don’t kiss on the neck, and besides, the feelings of new lovers have to be considered.
That I once thought you were the most wonderful woman on this side of the Equator goes without saying.
That I now think you are somewhat insufferable and not to be endured, that I would gladly push you off a cliff into the abyss of your sweet egoism, that I secretly pity the next ones when they discover the cute little monster that lurks beneath your sweet form, may or may not be true, and so let us leave the matter undecided.
I must admit I have thought of burning problematic photographs,
But alas, they are digital…
I won’t burn my computer for you.
Nor can I press the Delete key, for it’s silly to try to delete memories.
Incompatibilities you say?
What about impatience?
The difference in age?
Your instability, my dear – you are, sometimes at least, a giddy tightrope walker.
A lack of involvement on my part?
Chekhov, Maupassant, Shakespeare & co – blame it on them!
To get to the bottom of things…
You have disappointed me, you of all people,
But what makes it even, I suppose, is that I, too, have disappointed you, have I not?
That green leaves last but a season or two, you know as well as I.
And by the way, did you know that the best and most (Buddhist and) effective way (not) to take revenge on someone who, wishing it or not, has hurt you is to deny them the opportunity to pity you, perhaps even to stir their envy?
In other words, to become the best version of yourself that you can be?
Therefore pity me not (and I won’t pity you),
For I have things to do and people to meet,
In this world full of quiet possibilities…
So please forgive me for what I am, and also for what I am not,
And to conclude,
This Valentine’s Day public letter to you cannot end with a suicide note,
Nor with an outburst of sorrow,
Not even with a tear trickling down my cheek and splashing into my cup of tea,
But only with a wink of the eye, with a wise nod of the head, for though WE has,
for some time now,
I am not alone on this Valentine’s Day:
I am with myself,
And that is, in all modesty,
(This letter was begun in December.)