11/26/16

10:32 PM

Dear Snickers,

You get that name because you hate Snickers and I'm obnoxious.

And because you have the strangest laugh ever

It's between a beached dolphin screaming for help

And a woodchipper digesting the last bit of bone

It's really hard to say about you, Snickers

Because if I were to assume you are who I think you are

This letter would be:

You are my oldest friend

You are very smart and people are afraid of you

You have evolved into the most genuine person I know

And that would be all

But to take you at face value would be a mistake

And this letter is not a mistake; it is painfully deliberate.

I suppose I could liken you to a Snickers bar:

You have layers no one thinks about

Some chalky, some smooth

Some bitter, some overwhelmingly sweet

And many find you too serious to be candy.

We can go

Deeper though

i. You are my oldest friend

The oldest one I still talk to, anyway

When I moved here, my friends promised to stay in touch

To write

To call

But after four unacknowledged letters I gave up

But ah well, they're letters for another day

Right now, I am young and nervous and I talk too fast

I am intimidated by a new world of white children and strange games

You're lighter than me but still brown

Maybe that's why we are drawn to each other

I couldn't say

All I know is, there's a strange piece of playground equipment at that school

That changed my life -- and yours I suppose

It was a bouncy bridge on which I took refuge from a world in which

I was an observer

I jumped on it just for something to do

I was not having fun

I was not exercising

I was not enjoying myself

Until you joined me

It's a story we tell sometimes: Me, you, the bridge between us. I think it's a good story, sweet and innocent with no dark corners or hidden corruption. But we don't tell it often because, as is usually true, no one cares but me and you.

ii. You are very smart and people are afraid of you.

I don't know when you and I started intimidating people

Or who did it first

But this much I know:

I stopped.

You didn't.

As the years went by, I stopped talking so fast

I talked more, but about things people wanted to hear (Not made up lands and a whole dictionary of things that existed in it, I only talked to you about that.)

You stayed quiet. 

Through years and years of school and poking and prodding and prying You stayed quiet

And I almost envy you for that

I suppose it's lonely but it's better than this

You want no one; you get no one

I want someone; I get no one

See how you are fine and I am unfulfilled?

You talk (only to certain people) but you never talk about yourself

Your feelings

Your life

It isn't like you're mysterious

You just don't feel the need that possesses the rest of us

To talk about you.

I asked you yesterday, "Do you have feelings?"

It was a joke, but also an inquiry.

You said, "Yes."

I said, "About what?"

You turned away.

It doesn't seem to bother anyone else that you're like this but I still have to wonder why. I mean, you must have things you want to talk about. Or maybe you have other people you talk to about yourself and I just don't know it.

iii. You have evolved into the most genuine person I know

Everyone likes to impress people

Not you

Everyone likes to flaunt ther fashion sense

Not you

Everyone likes to brag about good grades

Or gripe about bad ones

Not you

Not you

Not you

It's refreshing and confusing because I know how to navigate the world . . . but

Not. You.

If you have one valuable asset in this world, Snickers, it isn't your brains:

It's your ingenuity

Never lose that. 

Keep it real, keep it too real

I don't think people notice how real you are, though, because they're too fake to see past their own exteriors. Not that I'm any less false than they are.

Your friend,

        Never

(PS: if you ever read this, don't laugh. These are just thoughts, okay?)