Carino,

    You had never uttered a word, but now I know you must have been fed up with me. How did you put up with me bossing you around? Was it tough? Or was it your laid-back personality that made it seem so effortless?

    People despise that side of me, but what can I do when they talk crap about things they have no idea about?

    Even you, armed with a bag of pot, wouldn't be able to withstand such bullshit. I assure you.

    You were a saint, you know?   

    I wanna know how did you do it.

    Andy kept breathing down your neck, I always had to have it my own way, while Duke dictated whether you were tired enough to stay in ― disclaimer, you never were.

    I need to know how come you were so indulgent because I find myself at the edge of my patience these days.

    Remember when I forgot to lock the door to the house, I was dogsitting at? After turning on the alarm, that is. I rushed for a lecture, and then it hit me. I called you in between classes to drop whatever you were doing, drop by my uni, take the keys and go to that damn house. You told me I should just call the owners and explain the situation. Their neighbours must have the spare key, you explained.

    Of course, I didn't listen.

    So you obliged and did as asked. You ended up being questioned by the security.

    That was a silent alarm, and I didn't know that.

    I didn't as much as apologised. God, I was nasty, and you didn't as much as flinched, saying it was no big deal.

    Or that time when I crashed your get-together with Andy.

    It was one of those rare occasions when you got to hang out with your brother, and I showed up out of the blue, all cranky because you didn't have time to get hot chocolate with me.

    Lord have mercy on me because even I would slap my younger self for being a whiney bitch.

    To top it all off, I got stoned.

    Andy offered me a blunt, to which you, of course, opposed, and my foolish ass dismissed you, telling you I was an adult.

    Your little party was cut short when I couldn't drive back to my dorms on my own. I still turn red when I think I called you, bawling my eyes out that I had lost my keys. I was dead sure I had spent at least an hour searching for them.

    That's where you stepped in, my knight in Zen armour, explaining to me I had left about 5 minutes ago and that it would be for the best if you drove me back.

    I bet you got an earful from Andy that night because you had to drag him out in the middle of the night to fetch your car, so he would follow us and then drive you two back.

    Get the hell out! Are you even real? Perhaps my memory got Swiss-cheesed, but I remember you as clear as the sky is blue.

    With all due respect for Gandhi, he could have learned a thing or two from you. My lenient, docile hero in tattered sneakers.

    Yours truly, B