I Swear You Will Be Fine

Dear Josh,

I have been missing you a lot more than usual lately. Last night was especially bad. I just couldn’t stop thinking and couldn’t fall asleep. The tears weren’t helping much either. I’ll probably take a melatonin gummy after I finish writing this.

Last night, as I was struggling to fall asleep and catch my breath amidst the sadness, I couldn’t help but notice the texture of my bedsheets on my skin. It’s a weird feeling to fixate on when you’re sad. You’d think you’d be more focused on your thoughts, but this could be my mind’s way of coping. I was noticing the feeling of my sheets, especially on my calves, and thought about your bedsheets. I realized that I miss the feeling of your bedsheets on my calves. Alright, now you’re laughing because this is a unique thing to miss – my calves on your sheets. Not just any part of my body, not my elbows, or arms, or back… my calves. I don’t know why, and trying to pen this down is making me shake my head in disbelief too. It’s weird, I admit. When I think hard enough though, I can almost remember the texture of your sheets and feel it.

There are other textures of yours that I miss too. And… you’re probably laughing again because that’s another weird statement to write. I miss the feel of your jacket. I miss this quite frequently, actually. I can remember the feeling of touching the various clothes you wear. There’s this black shirt with white prints on it that I really like too. It feels kind of silky and smooth. You wear that one quite often. This jacket though, is my absolute favourite and the one I miss most. You know which it is. It’s the maroon varsity jacket with patches on it. You wear this jacket quite frequently. I would ask you if it’s hot and if you’d want to remove it, but you never do. I think it’s because you know you look cool wearing it. I miss this particular moment the most – standing together and waiting for something (the traffic light, the train, the lift) and touching your jacket. I’d fidget a lot and one of my love languages is physical touch, so whenever I’m not holding your hand, I’m either stroking or pinching your jacket, or resting my face on your arm or shoulder. So, really, I miss the feeling of your jacket when I touch it, or when it’s on the side of my face.

I think this writing is going to affirm your opinion that I’m on the spectrum, which is a totally fine thing to be, but I know you’re laughing at how weird this whole writing is. I hope it’s not awkward to read though. The next texture I miss is parts of your house. I miss the feeling of your sofa and dining chair. “But Sha, you still get to sit on my sofa and dining chairs?” Yes, and I get to sit on your bed and touch your clothes too, but it’s different, isn’t it? I miss sitting on your sofa with you and playing games. We could be in the same spot for hours and I’d only occasionally readjust myself. We had specific spots on the sofa we favoured, and it didn’t matter how big the sofa was either because we’d be seated right next to each other on the same seat. We’d sit so close to each other that even Cadbury wouldn’t be able to squeeze in between us. I’d suggest letting him sit with us, and you’d say your mum doesn’t allow dogs on the sofa.

The last one I’ll write about (there are many textures I miss) is the inside of your hand. I miss your whole being, but this part specifically. I’d hold your hand most of the time and sometimes get the urge to gently scratch it. I can’t exactly describe why because it’s silly – scratching sometimes feels nice on my nails (cue your laughter). You didn’t mind at all, and I’d scratch the inside of your hand. I can’t describe how it feels. It’s just nice and comforting. I really miss the texture of the inside of your hand. I wish I could feel it again.

I hope you got a good laugh from this one. I might be embarrassing myself with the things I’m writing. I miss you very much.

I can’t wait to see you again. I love you more, always, and forever.

Love always,
Sha