You are my cherry pie sweet, my scrumptious heartbreak, with witty, sarcastic retorts thrown in.
You are my separated-at-birth sister, Invictus- with untamed tresses and love for all things rabid.
You, you are my yellow light, my would-be knight- with mad love for stones and fixes.
You are my soul-twin, the Other square peg among the Cappis, with the genuine happy-wise-Youness you possess with quiet confidence.
you are inconsequential now, thankgod.
You are my conscience, the one I never quite grow out of, the pseudo mother, the only Real Christian I know.
You were my angel, the Earnest, the uncomplicated, my darling infuriating Book-thief.
You are the one I Did outgrow, sappy phone conversations bore; sweet, you stabbed me with a smile (and oh help you God, you didn't even know). I don't know how to tell you so.
You are the strange, the wonderfully weird, all these terms you impose on yourself; the awkwardly kind, standing forever on the fringes, plunging straight in all the while- I hope you break through.
You are unconditional exasperating concerned judgemental anxious strong love- with moddhobitto Rabindranath-jora, individual values.
you're inconsequential too! well, nearly there except sudden twinges for what seemed to/could have been. sudden patches of bonding. there can't be a back to before again, but maybe anew ain't a bad thing.
you're the one i thought was SObloodyCOOL. Then I grew up- 'killer' biceps tho bro, and the pay package don't hurt either, amidst the hookah smoke.
You two are old fusspots in your own ways- love, worry, love *kichu khao, na khele bhalo lagey na!*
You're gorgeous and you look exactly how I always dreamed of looking, with in your face confidence to boot. Your self assurance and ability to be vulnerable to adorable stoner-puppy are your most attractive features.
You're the classic friend, to whom I spill way too much for no good reason- with Chandleresque tendencies to boot (if he came 6 ft tall with a ribbon on him).
You're candyfloss- if it came tinged with blue. So sweet, and So upset by Tiny things- I'd like to shake you and tell you to grow up, but then you wouldn't be You anymore.
You are my Simple, moddhobitto, Bhalo, normal (with an assured steady future) sister-from-below. I'd hate you if I didn't love you, you know.
You are the crazy one, the crazy-smart and the crazy-pretty one, and you're leaving your insecurities behind. You're growing up, love, and you'll Never grow up, thank God. We'll always be 14 in some ways.
You are the living proof that boys and girls- well men and women now- can Totally be best friends. The Only one back then who got what 'asphyxiating' meant and Why that was a big deal. My hairier, skinnier Mallu Twin, we've probably spent more time together online than anything.
Yes, I'm having writers block right now. But this is MY blog and I shall be John Mayer inspired "Who Cares" typer.
