The Words I Never Said // A Collection of Essays

Letter #12 // Impossible recipe using unusable ingredients

Dear Friend,

I can't believe it, just can't wrap my head around how I didn't manage to write to you over the past few weeks when the concept of you was the only thing running through my head. Remember how around a month ago I wrote about those reflections of yours that would suddenly emerge and trigger me, that would constantly unsettle me, and make me question the possible reality? It turns out that was NOTHING, just a trifle, a drop in the ocean, a grain of sand in the desert compared to what was still waiting ahead. Even if you did swiftly flash past me back then, this time you totally caught me and knocked me down, I couldn't even take a breath. Well, truthfully, I still don't know whether it's really you, but I've never met a human manifestation that would resemble you so closely. Let's start from the beginning. 

Like it always is when we (or parts of us) meet, the determinant factor here was the absence of expectations. I'm even starting to think this "unexpectancy" is my magic wand because never has the Universe brought me what I wanted in the exact form and the exact circumstances I had expected; usually reality turns out to be on the totally opposite end of the spectrum. One should also not underestimate my courage to dive into the complete unknown all by myself when I can't ever be sure about the upcoming chain of events and yet somehow manage to not overthink it and just swim forward. I think this must be the recipe for our successful encounter: not expecting and being impulsively courageous. What a shame those ingredients are impossible to use intentionally.

So on that day, I wasn't expecting to meet you nor had the time to think about it: I was too busy with my scary leap out of my comfort zone, moment after moment jumping back and forth from being proud of myself and regretting my choices. To be honest, that reflection of yours I noticed quite early into the day but barely paid any attention to it. And there was no need. Soon the person approached me themselves, twice even: the first conversation was cut off in a flash, left hanging somewhere up in the air, floating around the pine tree tops; the second time your reflection revealed themselves in the most unforeseen form, with the most surprising words which, seemingly in disbelief of, I managed to kindly accept while simultaneously declining the suggestion they proposed. I can't recall whether you smiled back then, but I surely did, although my imagination had only just begun its rampage.

Although I have to admit, after that whenever the image of you appeared in my eyes' radar, it would activate a fairly specific signal, not some screeching alarm or obnoxious beeping, but a soft-spoken whisper of my intuition saying "There!". This was likely when I first thought the person might've been another one of your flashing reflections. "Fine," I thought, "let it be. This wasn't what I planned, but let it be." And then I slipped into my usual staring roulette I had mastered so well: here one watches their opponent peripherally until one senses their opponent's gaze, and once it ceases one tries to unsuspiciously glance towards their opponent themselves. Here I was especially puzzled since I never got to make my turn of looking. Back then I blamed my peripheral vision for not being very accurate due to likely expired contact lenses, although I'll never know whether that was actually the problem.

Thinking about your reflection now I want to cuss so bad. Their amiability, questions incited by genuine interest, and warm hands. How stubbornly I held onto my stone walls, not letting anyone or anything cross it, well, except my own grin. There went another suggestion I declined which will cause a wave of doubt wash me down flat a few weeks later. That night I went to sleep with a fairly calm heart.

However, over the following few days, I realized I had some personal gunpowder igniters, havoc instigators, and engine starters I never asked for but always wholeheartedly appreciated. Your reflection was a match that burned for several short moments and that could've peacefully died down like all the other flashes of yours I've encountered. Except that this time those three people poured in some uncontrollable flammable liquids, threw in woodblocks, coal, and all kinds of burning waste, and then finally flung on a set of fireworks as a cherry on top. Naturally, with these conditions, I literally exploded when I saw that reflection of yours the second time. Although you, of course, couldn't have noticed it.