Dear Impossible

A moment can change how you perceive another human being. A moment may be all it takes for somebody to become somebody to you.

She was always taught growing up, “You are not allowed to date until you are eighteen.” She had obeyed partly because they were her parents and because she, too, agreed she was too young to be in a relationship. At seventeen years old, she was very grateful for this lesson because, in her eyes, love was a sacred thing—a gift from God. She wanted all her firsts and lasts to be special. After turning 20 at the beginning of July, she wonders what direction her life would have taken if her parents hadn’t imposed that rule. Would she have settled for all the school-girl crushes she had?

He, on the other hand, fell in love when they were in the 9th grade. She watched as he experienced his first love and observed from afar as he grieved when they went their separate ways after a few months of dating. She and he had classes together, and although they had known of each other, they had never been introduced. Although they had gone to the same school since kindergarten, they never even had a conversation. They only began sharing classes in the 9th grade. Despite being close, they were in different galaxies.

At 14, they had classes together, and because their friends were friends of each other, they became friends. They continued to share classes for the remainder of high school.

Everything changed the day she saw him cry. Now, at 17, she felt confused. Would she be crossing a line if she were to approach him? What would be the right thing to say? She had no idea, but encouraged by the words of a friend, she took the risk and tapped his shoulder lightly.

He did not want to turn around. He wanted to be left alone. She was not the first to try consoling him; he had ignored all the others who had called his name. Why should he turn to her? Reluctantly, he shifted and faced her.

It did not matter how the conversation started; there was nothing they did not talk about. They shared their dreams, hopes, visions for the future, and fears. They also discussed their families and friendships. Here, the beginning of something new and something more seemed to be unfolding—or was it? She had applied to change sections for her classes, and this would be their last day attending the same class until the next school year. In fact, they would not see each other again until finals, as their new schedules had them attending different sections on different days.

Unfortunately, her changing shifts had consequences. As friends of friends, their social circle was now in conflict. She was expected to pick a side. Life, it seemed, was not going to make it easy for them.

Despite the challenges, when they saw each other at finals, her admiration for him was evident in her eyes. It was clear that he was delighted by her presence. He had always enjoyed her company, but now he beamed, knowing everything had changed that day.

She understood she had to make a choice. Being indifferent was not an option. By being with him, she was hurting a friend, and by ignoring him, he felt betrayed. Either way, she found herself amid a mess for something she could not take responsibility for. Whatever she did, she would end up hurting somebody—somebody that meant something to her.

During summer break, she had decided she would not take anything further for she had known her friend forever. She wrote him a letter that he would never come across but will always belong to him.

“Dear Impossible, we could have been possible,” her letter began. “I let my mind wander for a while. We could have been something great—something more than a fantasy. Words fail me now, but 'impossible' feels right. We shared such a beautiful, genuine, and intimate moment, but maybe that was all it was meant to be: a moment. A memory meant to last, nevertheless a moment meant to fade away. I like you. I will always admire you, but you will always be impossible. There will always be an 'us,' lost somewhere in time.”

Although this was her first letter, it would not be her last. He had no awareness of what was unfolding. To him, there was no reason for her to avoid him. As seniors in high school, avoiding each other seemed impossible. They knew it, and so did everyone around them. People would always tease her. Both of them were always quick to deny there was anything more than friendship. But actions have consequences, and rumors fly like jets. She was hurting a friend. How could she be okay being friends with someone who had hurt a childhood friend of hers? She had no choice but to choose.

When he noticed what was happening, angered by her choice, he too began to ignore her. She knew he was angry, which in turn made her angry. “He has every right to be angry,” she thought, but she could not help but feel hurt. He was hurting too. The teasing had not yet stopped, but now it was painful. She understood his frustration with her. He could not understand how she could make a decision so easily. Little did he know.

When he noticed what was happening, angered by her choice, he too began to ignore her. She knew he was angry, which in turn made her angry. “He has every right to be angry,” she thought, but she could not help but feel hurt. He was hurting too. The teasing had not yet stopped, but now it was painful. She understood his frustration with her. He could not understand how she could make a decision so easily. Little did he know. Her letters continued.

“Dear Impossible, you are not out of reach. I see you. I hear your laughter. You sit just a few feet away from me. I can reach out. I want to. I want to reach out and reach you, but you are impossible.”

Now, at 18, they would go to prom alone and take a picture together. Graduation would be the last time they would see each other. They would both embark on new beginnings. “Now, I will finally let go,” he kept telling himself. All the teasing had now stopped, for there was an understanding of the grief they both felt, although neither would admit it. With only the picture and memories, they said their goodbyes and walked away. The next letter she wrote was her last. What she failed to understand was that his pain and anger ran as deep as his affection for her.

“Dear Impossible, I know you are angry with me, and rightly so. I am angry too because it hurts. I wish we were strangers again. I despise the civility between us. I would rather we were enemies. Is it right to long for the company of an enemy? The distance between us is unbridgeable. How come you have so much and I have none of you? You will always be a secret that I only told God and my sisters. I will always admire you, but you will always be impossible.”