in to all the boys i’ve loved before, lara jean covey writes love letters for all the boys that she’s loved. they reside in a box hidden away in her closet, neatly placed in envelopes that are all already addressed, but never mailed. i understand. i’ve always been a big fan of handwritten notes and homemade gifts; small reminders of love and hope and light wrapped up with your favorite things. i guess it would make sense for me to be a big fan of love letters, too.
unlike lara jean covey i send my letters out into the world. these letters are love letters to myself, to you.
the thing about love—whether romantic or platonic—is that there is no promise that the other person will stay. some relationships seem like they’re meant to pass by and others seem like they’re meant to last a lifetime but at the end of the day we really don’t have any control over them at all. what lara jean covey and peter kavinsky tell me is that there are people who will put in the work to stay, even when the contract expires. that gives me hope.
and there’s something really, really beautiful about people who put in the work to stay—hold onto them. maybe i’m just sentimental or maybe it’s the nostalgia, but i think our relationships are meant to adapt and grow with us. in any case, i think it’s worth trying to stay in touch before losing touch.
i haven’t always prioritized platonic love, but in this past year i’ve realized that maybe it deserves the front seat. i say give writing love letters a chance, and by that i mean write them to your friends, too. and if you don’t want to, you don’t even have to write them; sometimes my love letters are the shells i picked from the beach, the pressed flowers, the endless supply of spotify links i send them.
some days i think i’m just simply overwhelmed with the love i have for my friends and it is the best feeling ever. i wonder if it’s possible to be platonically in love with someone?
in nick and norah’s infinite playlist, there’s a minor character that goes on about how the beatles got it right; sometimes, all you want to do is hold someone’s hand. there is nothing that gets to the point like that does. some days, all you need is to hold someone’s hand.
reader, i’m sick and tired of pretending to not be in love with the people around me—hold my hand, it’s yours.