Becoming Better Because You Exist

Keya,

I am going to address you seriously in this letter. I want you to know this is important. Not dramatic-important. Real-important. Important in terms of emotion, and in terms of the actual reality of us.

Keya, you inspire me so much. The journey you began alone, building your own studio as a solo woman, you know how bold and daring that move is in this country. It is not a Pinterest quote rather real risk. And as a fellow lifelong ADHD warrior, I understand the kind of internal war we fight just to move forward against our own minds. Sometimes the battlefield is simply getting out of bed and doing the thing anyway.

I know you wanted to move to the States for higher studies. While I was genuinely sad, I always prayed for your success. I swear I did not pray for your failure, haha, like I did back when you were trying to find a groom. That version of me was slightly toxic but in a comedic way. Growth has happened since then.

But as people say, maybe it did not work out because God had a better plan for you. Perhaps the plan was not “foreign degree,” but “CEO energy.” Becoming the boss lady of your own business suits you more anyway. I am truly glad you started it.

Despite all the challenges, you did it. And now you are hiring junior artists. That is not small. That is someone who once had a dream and now signs other people’s salaries. If you pause and look at it objectively, it is pretty incredible. And yes, I am freaking proud of you. Watching you grow, even from a distance, inspires me more than you probably realize.

You inspire me first as a person. The way you care for your siblings, I have seen very few people that dedicated. I am certain you put their needs before your own, making sure they have what they need, shielding them from the world as much as you can. You are a gem of a sister. I believe one day, when they are older and life hits them properly, they will understand what you sacrificed and endured as the eldest. They probably already love you more than they can express, but some realizations only come with age. Unfortunately, maturity does not ship overnight.

And yes, I am jealous of the fact that you have siblings. As an only child, I have often imagined how different my life would have been if I had a sister. Maybe I would have been less dramatic. Or maybe worse. We will never know.

You inspire me to be more responsible. When the brain tries to convince us to stay stuck, to postpone, to avoid, you quietly demonstrate what it looks like to push through. It is annoying how motivating that is.

Then there is another way you inspire me. It might sound cringe to you, but to me it is sacred. I know you have been through a lot in life. If, by some miracle, our stars ever align, I would want to care for you the way you have cared for your family. By nature, I am an empath. I feel happiest when I can make someone else happy. It is both a strength and a design flaw. And if I were ever given the chance to be in your life, I would give it everything I have.

This feeling has become the fuel of my life these days. It used to be caffeine ha ha! Now it appears to be love. Slightly more expensive emotionally, but more sustainable. Loving you is changing me, as I have told you a hundred times already. The desire of a man to protect and provide for his girl and his family, I only truly felt that after knowing you, observing you, loving you quietly, even when you had absolutely no idea a whole human was over here having character development.

But why? Why do I love you when I have never even met you in person? You could be different from what I imagine. Honestly, no answer feels sufficient. The heart wants what it wants. I do not think I get to cross-examine it in a courtroom. And I refuse to believe that you are not the person your image, your soul, your music taste, your energy, your empathy project into the world. If that were not true, why would you feel like home? Homes are usually built on something real. Or at least I hope so.

I know I may sound childish. But I am 33, Keya. I have lived enough to understand consequences and electricity bills. And yet my soul feels like a strange combination of a thousand-year-old monk and a ten-year-old boy. I take reality seriously. I just refuse to let seriousness erase wonder. I genuinely believe I could understand and care for your soul because, in some quiet fundamental way, we speak the same language.

I also want you to know how extraordinary you are as an artist. The taste of the soul reveals itself through art. The way you design a bride’s final look according to her skin tone and facial structure shows rare sensitivity. I may not know much about makeup, but I understand aesthetics, intention, and detail. I can see your talent clearly in the look and feel of your work. Even my untrained eyes can tell this is not average. And my untrained eyes are brutally honest.

I want you to grow, Keya, regardless of whether my existence holds any importance in your life. I want you to soar. I want you to succeed enough to visit every place on your checklist. Even if the possibility of you truly knowing me, and perhaps loving me, remains small. Love does not need guaranteed returns to be sincere.

You might wonder what I will do if one day you no longer choose to shine in my direction. I do have plans. I will travel. I actually have a whole list, I will tell in another letter. I will try to step foot in as many countries as I can. Maybe I will form a band with some elderly fellows. Imagine us touring with back pain and wisdom. Who knows. Life is strange like that.

But one thing I know with certainty: you are my last, even if you are not mine.

Warmly You know who.