Gratitude

I have this one old friend of mine who's really, really good at giving compliments to people, and I have to say, that is one of the best traits in her that I haven't really seen in a lot if people. For as long as I can remember being friends with her, I have almost never heard her hating on someone while I cannot count how many times she's been giving compliments to people who just seem so-so to me. I know you will be reading this, N. So let me just thank you for showing me how nice someone could be, in this corrupt times and world where compliments are as rare as a truly good #nofilter photo on Instagram.

And the thing with me is that I suck in receiving compliments. When someone gave me a compliment, I never knew what to do with it. Should I smile? Should I say thanks? Should I say "Dammit! I knowwww!" Or should I stay humble and honestly tell them that I don't think I deserve the compliment, so stop showering me with it?

Very recently, a good friend of mine had verry nicely written a post that was based on her experience findng me being very insecure with my own writing. She wrote a post about it, said she was inspired from that fortuitous moment, and the post she wrote was tremendously beautiful. I almost always fail at writing something nice in my own native language and I have to say hers was pretty brilliant. I didn't understand it at first, because, which part of it came from me being insecure of my own words seem oblivious. But those words have meaning. Those words hide something. Something that I couldn't see without further explanation. And that is the quality that is lacking in my own writing.

So my dear, this is me apologizing for not having understood your beautiful writing at first. This is me not knowing how to respond to your amusing reaction when you caught me red-handed. This is me doing the only thing that I know about: writing what was unspoken, what my lips could not say, and what my brain needed time to arrange. I didn't know how to deal with the fact that you wrote a post that was inspired by my action. I have never been the reason behind someone's writing just as much as I've never been the object of someone's poetry before. This is a first. This is me being a virgin at becoming the source of some's art. 

Thank you. I will not revert this to draft.