B

Dear B,

I have meant to write this for quite some time. Beneath that quiet sarcasm, you are amazing. Truly, you are. I have never in my life been so impressed with someone’s heart and their interminable kindness. Even — especially — towards people who hardly deserve it. You know everything about everything. But even if you didn’t, I’m sure you’d just learn it.

You are one of the most interesting people I have ever conversed with. From the trivial to the sublime, I don’t think there’s anything we couldn’t talk about. I don’t think there’s anything you couldn’t understand in some sense. Or commiserate with. Your indulgence makes me feel like I am already the person I wish I were.

I know that you don’t think very much of yourself, but I suspect it’s because you don’t see what is plain as day. All the same, if you knew how ace you are, surely we would never have become friends, as you would not be impressed with me in all of my loud, bratty nonsense.

So, thank you for your patience. Thank you for your kindness. Thank you for listening to me talk about things that annoy even me. Thank you for all the bad wine. Just, thank you.

(Disclaimer: This is part of the letter series)

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