At the time, I was living in Hartford, CT, and my closest friend was an hour away from me. I lived in a sparsely furnished one-bedroom apartment and ate many meals of gluten-free pasta by myself. I was isolated and lonely, and in hindsight, I was so desperate for company, to be touched and cared for. A lucky day would be if I had a coffee and read a book and something in the book sparked off a sequence of highly-energized thoughts, and I would be filled with ideas, ideas would come, a trail of ideas that sparked at everything I brought my attention to. But even that kind of pleasure and joy can only last so long. And I wasn’t competent and wise enough then to cultivate those ideas and bring them to reality.

One afternoon, I decided to organize my books and a collection of small gifts and letters. Suddenly, I came across your letter and opened it. It was the letter you sent me on Christmas and you told me in that letter that I was your best friend in the galaxy and that you would always love me. I read it and sobbed like a child. In that moment, I knew that even though you were with someone else at the time, I would get my life together and wait for you.