From Your Bum Bum, With Love

To my bum bum,

I swear, just as I typed that, a gush of warmth went through me, and a cloud of tears blurred my laptop screen. Yes, you did. I think you're the one that brought this about in the first place, so in a way, you are to blame. When I first met you, in my long black dress, I didn't feel any sparks. I didn't think we were going to ever even share a morning with a cup of coffee, let alone sob stories, most cherished memories, laughter and complete lives. If I had to pick my own teacher, someone who could guide me through everything even when I just didn't want to budge, it would be you. It would be your incomprehensible bundle of energy, warmth and adrenaline that makes you so full of life, so brutally honest, so perfect that you would pick out your own flaws and sit with them for days with a needle and thread and then pick ours up for all the serious patchwork to be done. And once you were done, we shone bright, because you picked the prettier embellishments for me. But somehow you were the most gorgeous, I don't understand how that worked. When I picked you right after him, I was jealous because you got to be the my most favorite character. But I'd only let you have it. Because truth be told, you're a much better character than even he could ever be. Also because he was the one that smacked me hard when I had tears pouring down my face, he was the one that told me to stop feeling sorry for myself, he was the one who didn't hold my hand and let everything happen, alcohol being the only excuse. You're the better character. And just thought you should know, I'm taking you and your strength, gonna store it in one big chunk of me. Yes, you can be the cuter one. Forever.

I look at you and I'm calmed. Soothed. And somehow, I feel sheltered and protected. Even though, I just want to drop everything and shield you every time I can see something approach you, anything even mildly capable of altering your nature, and more often than not I see it much before you do. You're transitional, dear sunshine, but I want to know how you still manage to hold your own. I'm mystified and charmed by your capacity to keep everything bottled up and not let it spill out of the safe valve that you keep it in, out into an audience that would never appreciate and understand the intricacies of so many things close to your heart. I'm glad that you picked me as one of the recipients, me! Because your stories, your thoughts, your concerns, your dreams are precious. And I don't understand how nobody saw that before. I could have you around me and my mundane life for days, months, and years to end without feeling the need to fill the gaps of silence with any words. But I would probably burst into uncontrollable tears the moment you were removed. You are my rock with a mind of its own, and you know when to boost me and when to bring me down and somehow amidst all the smoke, people, the city that's our launch-pad, and the emotions that are our backbone, you managed to trick me into making you my favorite song, just the one that I'm always going to remember. Be transitional,  but please don't shift, because I won't know where to find you.

Your mad, intense
bum bum