Last night I saw a friend of mine and we got talking about my recent ill spell. I admitted that, for a little while, I thought it might have been the end. No more sunsets, late nights walks and no more KFC. I thought that was it and that I’d never see anyone again. If that wasn’t a terrifying enough thought I was plagued by the idea that maybe people don’t know how much I care about them.
You see, I’m quite an emotional person but sometimes I forget to tell people how much they mean to me. I know that saying it every day is not only unrealistic but stupid but I suddenly felt that I had been given another chance and that I should tell people that I do care.
I have friends that I have known for years and cannot think of one time when I have hugged them or told them what they mean to me. These are people who were there at some of my lowest times and I have been through so much with them and yet I just take them for granted.
So here it is. I love you. I care about you. I appreciate everything that you have done for me and I know I don’t say it often enough but you’ve impacted my life in such a way that I honestly thought was impossible.
And if, for some awful reason, I do errrr cough it in the near future I want you to know that it’s been good. And if the last thing I said to you was something like “you’re a crap driver!” or “you were just joking right?” (at a really badly timed moment) or “sometimes you just really wind me up!” that I don’t mean it. Your driving is brilliant, I don’t care that you weren’t joking and you don’t wind me up, you make me happy.
Ugh. That was way too nice for my liking. I’ll have to find something to slag off now so that I can redeem myself.