I was reading something on the Internet - a lot of things, actually - about best friends drifting apart. It broke my heart (you'd roll your eyes: "you're always so overemotional"), and I don't want it to happen to us. We've talked about it, I know. "What happens when we go to university?" Even though the furthest we'll be is two hours apart, that's enough to change everything. That terrifies me.
Of course we'd try and make it work. Skype, trains, meeting in the middle. But it wouldn't be the same. Those late night conversations are never really complete until I see your hesitant smile the next day. I'm so scared that the distance will kill us, in the end. In the words of a band you will never listen to or like: "we knew this would end without futures or fireworks, just schedules refuted". I think we can change that. I hope we can. You don't want to think about it.
We're an odd couple. I don't think anyone really "gets" us. We like it that way.
Sometimes I think we're two comets on a collision course, and sometimes I just think that we've changed each other so much that the ground should quake, because you've single-handedly rewritten my future. I can hear you in my head, you know. "You think too much! What's the point in this?" But I know you're fascinated by this side of me you can never grasp. The one so enamoured with words and language and metaphors and half-meanings and the way the structure of a sentence can make me gasp with joy, and I know because I'm just as enthralled by your reverence of numbers; your musings on artificial intelligence, the futility of man and your solid faith in logic.
You told me once that you wanted to change the word for "robot", because it originated from the word "slave", and you thought that was wrong. You see machines as the better parts of us - humans plus. We can't be trusted to take care of the planet, because man is a paradox, he creates through destruction. You spoke so earnestly of robots tending to nature with gentleness, with no comprehension nor drive for greed or war or hostilty - of the harmony that could be achieved between technology and the earth if only humans were removed from the equation. As much as it made my heart ache, that moved me.
I'm actually thinking of incorporating it into a story, now that I'm reminded of it.
When I'm away for too long, you have arguments with yourself in the conversation window and I always smile when I read them. You do so many things that make me happy and you don't even know it. Just yesterday, I was moaning to someone about the negative, segregational connotations the word "group" held for me in connection with friends, and not half an hour later you referred to us and our friends as a "team". I love that. I love you. You told that joke today, and I grinned stupidly for half an hour. I'm going to tell it to everyone, by the way. You're going to be hearing about it for months, maybe even years.
That's not to say we're perfect. We clash, I know this. We've hurt each other so, so much. I cried for hours because of you and you didn't talk to me for a week. We're stubborn and we bring out the worst in each other just as much as the best. But we always come back together, and again I'm reminded of comets, but not of that stupid Biffy Clyro song.
I read about your star sign and was surprised to find so few similarities when it works so well for everyone else. But I think I just know you too well; no one can decipher a horoscope from the inside. You say that I use the word "love" too much - that it's too heavy, and it shouldn't trip off my tongue so lightly, so easily. But I think about you and love is all I can say, so I apologise. We're forever apologising, you and I. And berating each other for it. There's an irony there, but for once I'm not so interested in it - I'd much rather concoct harebrained schemes with you about people we hate, with time-travel and paradoxes and all of the ridiculousness we indulge in together.
I'm running out of things to say now. There are so many things I almost wrote but they were too close and too much and I wouldn't betray your trust like that. I'm not going to tell you I wrote this, because I don't really want you to read it. But I want this somewhere that I can see it and not forget about it. I love you and you're always going to be the best friend I've ever had, even if no one else can see it.