I wrote a letter a few days ago, for a friend. Strangely I didn't know what I was going to write. For days it had plagued me, writing something for someone was natural to me but writing for someone whom I cared for a lot made me scrap every single sentence I wrote down, every waking and sleeping moment I thought of ideas on how to put it all on paper. It had to be perfect, I told myself, everything had to be perfect. I wouldn't want anything less for the person whom I looked up upon, whom I really thought was worthy enough to get my attention. Maybe it was unwanted, but I could always move on, after all I was quick to do so, I've had worse than four measly years. No, this letter had to be perfect, so that he would always remember who I was and what I am. I am the one who could always connect the dots, always ask questions and even if someone suspects me I could clear myself out. I was always terrible at lying but one can get better with practice - after all, I was able to keep his birthday present a secret - it was only the stuffed cake I made for him that gave me away. Who else among his friends could make something so...fluffy? None, I suppose, all except one. Me.
When he read the letter he told me things I didn't really want to hear, but I was glad he did. I was able to close every single thing, well, maybe not all, but I know where I stand. The strangest part was he thought I wrote just like Sherlock Holmes, from the TV series, with which he was extremely obsessed about.
I have yet to find out about what Sherlock wrote for Dr. Watson (he spoiled some of the series for me) but whatever he wrote must have told a story.
After all, only good friends know your story, even if they annoy the bloody hell out of you sometimes, and they can be such a show-off. Well, he has the right to - his blog has more hits than mine.
...so does that mean I'm Sherlock and he's Watson? After all - Sherlock didn't get attention until Watson wrote on his blog about the great Sherlock Holmes. The hat was a nice touch. And my cheesecake is on the web.
When he read the letter he told me things I didn't really want to hear, but I was glad he did. I was able to close every single thing, well, maybe not all, but I know where I stand. The strangest part was he thought I wrote just like Sherlock Holmes, from the TV series, with which he was extremely obsessed about.
I have yet to find out about what Sherlock wrote for Dr. Watson (he spoiled some of the series for me) but whatever he wrote must have told a story.
After all, only good friends know your story, even if they annoy the bloody hell out of you sometimes, and they can be such a show-off. Well, he has the right to - his blog has more hits than mine.
...so does that mean I'm Sherlock and he's Watson? After all - Sherlock didn't get attention until Watson wrote on his blog about the great Sherlock Holmes. The hat was a nice touch. And my cheesecake is on the web.
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