I know this is vague. You might never even read this. You might but never realise that I’m talking about you.
But you know me. If I waited until I was ready to tell this to you face to face, it would never happen. I’m not as strong as you. I never have been.
You have been my role model for as long as I can remember, even if I never liked to admit it. I looked up to you always.
I pretended to like things I didn’t just to feel more like you. It was kinda pathetic really, looking back. I’m near certain you saw right through it.
But you didn’t care. You humoured me.
You’ve always been that sort of person. So much more willing to forgive. More willing to ignore my silliness than even myself. I think back to things I’ve done that make me angry or embarrassed, but you never cared about them.
You have always been more mature than me. There isn’t a huge difference in our ages, but you always seemed leagues ahead of me in all aspects.
You have so many qualities that I envy. You build strong relationships. You seem fearless. You have strong morals and you stick to them. You know what you want to be and do. You are so much stronger in character than me.
I know you probably have your own issues you deal with that I don’t see. I’m sure you’re not as perfect as I’ve built you up as in my head.
But you stride on despite them. You never show signs of faltering. When I’m ready to collapse under my own struggles, when I’ve long since fallen, you stay the course, head held high.
I envy you, but in the best possible way, if that makes sense. I want to be like you. To have your conviction, your strength, your abilities. I’m jealous of you, but there is no negativity behind that.
It must sound strange, me saying I want to be like you in an abstract writing. So impersonal, so vague.
But I mean it. You are someone I wish I could be like.
The one I have always, and will always, look up to the most.