"Isn't it pretty to think so?"

“Oh Jake," Brett said, "We could have had such a damned good time together."

Ahead was a mounted policeman in khaki directing traffic. He raised his baton. The car slowed suddenly, pressing Brett against me.

Yes," I said. "Isn't it pretty to think so?”

― Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises

"You look happy", a colleague said. "It's weird and I don't like it".

And indeed I was, and for a reason that would be unexpected for anyone who has known me for any length of time. "It is weird, and to be honest, I don't like it either", I replied.

I started seeing a girl about a month ago and somehow, the happiness associated with seeing her was affecting all aspects of my life. Owing to a history that doesn't deserve mention, I have a reputation for deliberately and determinedly avoiding human relationships. For that reason, everyone close to me took an immediate interest in what I was doing (and helped where they could because, by admission, I didn't know what I was doing).

She is, for lack of a more emphatic categorical expression, perfect. Which is to say she was perfect for me and fell within those nonsense, unattainable criteria which I've held onto to exclude a legion of potential suitors over the past few years:

1. She is kindhearted; unapologetically gentle, and of the sort which I doubt had the capacity to hurt anyone. Most importantly me.

2. She reads. In a time where the train carriages are a zombified mass of smart phones and Facebook, she reads. And it makes her smart and interesting and is, for me, the most attractive quality in the world.

3. She (at least seemed) to have a working understanding of middle-Eastern politics.

For the longest time, I've avoided going further than anything that appears to be an official date. Not feeling that I have anything in particular to offer, and entrenched in the view that I don't have the capacity to recover from being hurt again, I've pushed back against the world for a while. But the universe, as it always does, prevailed.

So I fumbled, shyly at first, to engage her. She has the kind of smile which would instantly turn the most abominable 12-to-14-hour-litigation-hellday into something substantially better than it otherwise could have been. It's a rare, special quality, and the thing that I knew would quickly have me under her spell.


It was unbearably difficult to commit myself to a few dates and it was only after hours of talking, numerous bottles of overpriced wine, and a kiss that clearly signalled her softness and intention, that I made the decision that I liked her. In fact, I liked her more than I could ever have expected to.

Being cautious (and a little smart), my penchant is for self-destruction and over-thinking. After deciding that she was the kind of girl that I could project a happy future with, I got well ahead of myself.

See, despite the fact that I wanted her, it turned out that she didn't want me. And where others might have been angry, or hurt, I'm just sad. It's fair to say that she didn't catch me at my best (which is less than impressive, anyway) and, when it comes to a girl that special, it's difficult to fault her decision making process.

Feelings are intangible and often genuinely unexplainable. I'm not in the business of trying to change people's views or feelings and, as much as it pained me, I told her that I understood. And thanked her for the chance she gave me. It's inarguable that she deserved far better than my meagre offerings and it is selfish to think otherwise.

There's no particular reason that I'm writing this, save for the fact that this process is reflective for me. Maybe she'll change her mind, and maybe she won't, but I'll certainly be ok either way. It's been a long time since I've put myself in a position where my happiness was contingent upon the actions of someone else, in that maddening and frustrating (and exposing) exercise of trust and vulnerability. I'm glad for the time I got to spend with her, however brief, because:

1. It taught me that I could open myself up to the possibility that there might be something else out there;

2. She was (and no doubt still is) undeniably special;

3. There is beauty in vulnerability, despite the risk; and

4. Despite disappointing them this time, there is a large group of people around me that have a genuine interest in wanting me to be happy (and I love them all more, for knowing).

Yesterday

It was your birthday yesterday. I'm sorry that I didn't make your party, but you were at the front of my mind. It's been six months since you died and I'm not really sure things are getting easier.

One minute you were here. The next, you were gone.

Ironically, we are both atheists, so I know that you'd be disappointed for me for talking to you like this. The truth is, since you've been gone, I've often hoped that we were both wrong and that you're there. Somewhere. Somehow.

In your absence, I've tried hard to carry on the fight. The greatest thing you ever taught me was to be uncomfortable watching the struggle of others; to be compassionate, to be angry when necessary, and to not be guilty for failing to act. Putting aside the fact you were a Green (I'm sure just to piss me off), you'd be happy to know that the fight goes on, but that it's harder on my own.

The moment that I heard you were gone was the moment that everything changed. It's been a tough 6 months, mate. We've lost two more since you, and I've struggled to keep my head above water. People have always looked to me to be positive in the face of tragedy; to be strong and to be a leader. Keeping that act up has been the hardest. It feels like I've been crying for months, in the unbearably quiet times, and alone.

I've been sadder than I thought humanly possible. It was only once I was at the absolute bottom, devoid of any answer, that I learned the most important lesson. No single moment, in and of itself, is unendurable. What happened to you was unfair and what followed broke my heart into more pieces than I knew it was made of.

Most recently, I had a friend who died because he was sad. We worked so hard to try and make people happy; happiness is an inalienable truth. It bothers me to my core that someone could feel so sad that they are left no other option and sitting with his Mum today, I know that it is something that I could never do.

I suppose that all I can do it learn, and heal, and grow. Try to let what is unfair teach us.

People are valuable and it's true that some are more valuable than others. As those that are left here get older, it becomes more important to let people know that you care. When you find someone or something worthwhile, you can't let it go without a fight. Life is precious. And short.

There is nothing more important than being kind.

Like DFW said- "everything I ever let go has claw marks in it".

I'm not sure why I'm writing this. In some way, it make things seem a little easier. I feel incredibly bad that I didn't go to your party, but suffice to say that most people are dealing with you not being here better than I am. I'd be lying if I didn't say that there were times that I wished it was me (and I know how mad you would be for me saying that), but with your spirit in tow, the fight goes on.

You were one of the good guys, in a time that people are seldom thoughtful and seldom kind. I miss you every day.