Friendship love letters are my personal archive, evidence that platonic love is just love; underrated and valuable. I deeply encourage writing letters to your friends, telling the people that you love that they’re dear to you, not just when boys are mean to you. soapbox done.

The rules are: published anonymously until acknowledged. Responses are welcome. Enjoy.

This letter has been an almost comically long time coming (for context a version of this has been in the drafts for almost 3 years). I’m sorry you had to wait so long but I assure you it is utterly sans cera.

With apologies to Elizabeth Gilbert, author of the global bestselling Eat Pray Love, here is my thesis on how and why our story through Italy Bali and India is much better.

Italy: “attraversiamo”

Our origin story is a source of great dispute but until you write your own version, mine is in writing and will serve as the definitive version.

I can’t remember where exactly I met you but I know we became casually acquainted through a mutual friend during medical school. Our friendship officially started in 3rd year: After several random hangouts (including but not limited to A WHOLE ENTIRE CONCERT: The Script) our ambulance shifts synced and as we crossed the road, on a whim I said “attrreversiamo” which is Italian for “let us cross over “. We’d both learned it from the same book and I’d never had anybody recognise it before. We hung out several times in your room after that (little did I know, you were blissfully unaware that we were friends and wondered why I kept talking to you, too bad weirdo you were stuck with me). 

By the time I inducted you into the Order of the Spiked Stilletto, lovingly named after the obscenely sexy heels adorning your walls, so at odds with your public facing self, it was clear to both of us that we were connected.

At every crossroad: you crossed with me. When we moved down the Garden Route and spent a magical year with an amazing group of people uncovering beautiful places, enjoying music, our youth and bonds that single-handedly changed the local demographics. The road trips and your assessment of Rihanna’s vocals on ‘Love on Brain’ were priceless. The joy we made from scratch like pancakes & waffles during the tense moments of FeesMustFall, the spontaneous Bridget Jones marathon while the world around us crackled with chaotic uncertainty; the birth of the Legend of the weekend of (John) Wick. The first (exhausting) internal medicine block. Graduation. We crossed those thresholds together. Attraversiamo.

Bali: paradoxes

You are a walking contradiction. You visited Bali (a bucket list destination of mine) and refused to share any pictures. Your photography in general is the only standard of excellence you fail to meet which is wild because you clear the bar so seamlessly when everything you choose: as a singer, a prayer warrior, cleavage-haver, stiletto owner, chef and friend.

Your inexplicable yet resolute inability to understand one of my favourite movies of all time. Your questionable taste in films (who else, on Gods green earth enjoyed the M.Night Shyamalan Avatar The Last Airbender???). Your inner baddie cloaked in hobo-chic.

You follow my mind wherever it leads, lol except when you really don’t want which happens with just as much random frequency as my rant about Supernatural losing its way led you to not only watch the whole series but completely lap me. The same thing happened with Game of Thrones. I’m glad that before the final season let us all down, I had someone to discuss “the criminally underrated magic of The North” with while everyone else was fixated on the fate of Jon and Daenerys.

It’s an imprecise science: I begged you to watch Parks & Rec (you did) then refused to watch the next 4 things I pitched (in a row). I’ve never met anyone so delightfully unpredictable, so predictably inconsistent. Because, seriously: who barely takes pictures in Bali?

India: Sacred

We both agree that mushrooms don’t belong in curry, that that night time trip to my favourite curry while playing ‘Satisfied’ for you for the first time was life changing. In a rare back-to-back win, I got you hooked on 2 of my favourite things In one go.

We both agree that Love is sacred, that friendship is a divine and personal gift, that sacred things require tending and that platonic romance is rewarding. Spiritual. Sacred.

You once wrote me the most beautiful birthday card I’ve ever received, revealing to me that you truly saw me when I thought you were just watching for entertainment or judgment (or both). Without wax: I’ll never forget.

The Augusteum:

Ms Gilbert mentions a building in the heart of Rome that’s lived many lives: a tomb for Emperor Augustus that has endured damage and repurposed over centuries, a fitting metaphor for life’s chaos and the necessity of change and transformation.

The first draft of this letter was bittersweet: reminiscent of a time when I’d accepted that our friendship was a cursory footnote, a happy memory reawoken with the occasional rushed phone call or birthday message. I didn’t think you cared and was making peace with the remains. You noticed it in passing one day and immediately prioritised a remodelling. I thank you for your willingness to redesign and preserve our relationship until it was made anew: into something deeper, more weathered, complex and richer than what stood before. I’m so glad you continue to exist with me in mutual sprankel.

You have prayed with me and cried with me. For me. For us. We have held each other and been accountable. At every threshold, you are there. This new one is no exception: “attraversiamo”.