Dear Love of My Life Who I Have Yet to Find,
I know you’ve taken quite a few wrong turns, eluding me for
most of my existence. But then, we might have met, given in to our stubborn
natures and refused to feel. You and I, we’re messed up in all the right ways.
I want you to know that I stumble more often than I walk,
and I have more insecurities than I can count. If you know me - the way only
you are supposed to - you will also know of my love for the hopeless and
imperfect and of the pride I have in my work. You must also know that I am
capable of spite and jealousy and all the lowest of emotions. That I am capable
of hurting you and spewing inappropriate pop-culture references. You have to
know that my wishbone has a backbone and even my dreams have a certain
pragmatism to them. You have to know of my need to be alone and to be overly
critical. You have to know that more often than not, I am lost and have a hard
time finding myself. You have to know, my love, and still love me.
I beg you to have patience with my fallacies and strengths,
for I know – in my old, cynical way – that I will be fine. And so will you – with
your own set of weaknesses.
It brings a warm
smile to my lips to think that you could be reading this, wondering what caused
this change in style. Or grinning at the screen, questioning my sanity. But this
might go unnoticed, while you struggle and cope with your own colourful life. I
wish you luck with that.
I know this sounds a bit too tame, but I look forward to
meeting you.
Yours,
The Love of Your Life You Have Yet To Find
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