Of the many moments we’ll share together in life, I often ponder about our Sunday mornings. I hope that they are slow and easy. I imagine us sitting at the dining table, in my favorite silence. Your head buried in a book and mine tackling a crossword puzzle. Looking up only to exchange glances as we enjoy each other’s presence while lost in our own worlds.
Leave it to me to feel excitement over something as mundane as a Sunday morning. Yet I am certain, nothing will be mundane with you.
Hello my love,
My birthday’s coming up soon. I’ve always known myself to get sad because so many expectations are placed on this day. As much as I try not to get my hopes up, I can’t help it. I want to feel special. I want people to tell me that I matter. That their lives would be different without me. That I have left an impact in some way. This speaks to my fear of leaving this Earth inadequate. What will my legacy carry into the future?
I will try my very best to celebrate you everyday and every birthday. Age is a privilege many are robbed of. With every year, I hope you realize how lucky we are to forge on in life together.
It’s the quiet moments of solitude where I catch myself wondering where you are. What you’re doing. If you’re happy.
I hope you’re proud of the life you’ve built thus far. I think I’m fairly satisfied with mine. I can wait for us because I have so much to work on before I’m ready. I want to be the best version of myself. Not for you, but for me. That will give us our best chance of making this work so seamlessly.
I can already tell you that once we meet, you will terrify me in the most amazing way.
All my love,
I hope you don’t snore. Or if you do, that you wait until I fall asleep before you do. Every night for the rest of our lives. Thanks!
I’ve been trying to work on an application to help with graduate school, and I’ve been lacking inspiration to say the least. There hasn’t been anyone that really knows what to say in order to push me in the right direction. I have to learn how to do that for myself, I know. But damn, some moments I just wish you were here to give me the words of encouragement I need to keep me on track.
Why am I surrounded by so much inadequacy?
I’m trying to maintain my focus on graduate school, so I spent the past couple of hours working on my applications. It’s a lot of hurdles to jump through but I’m definitely ready. One day I’ll explain all about how my passion for education came to be. I’ll need your support, in this and in all things.
On that note, I am interested to learn how your circumstances have shaped you. Your family, culture, relationships, hardships, privileges, tragedies, and triumphs — how all of these things have contributed to the man you grew to be.
What are you passionate about? I know that will be one of the things that will draw me to you. Life is too short to be lackluster. I hope you will inspire me on the days I am dragging my feet.
Current circumstances are clouding my ability to write to you objectively. I have been disappointed so often lately that the voice of doubt is gaining decibels faster than I can quiet.
And even in the midst of this cacophony, I am hopeful. I’m certain that with you…I’ll just know.
I should rethink all of the experiences that I retrospectively label as missteps. Each moment is a lesson — a path carefully paved to lead me to you.
The fact that we have not yet found each other tells me it is because we aren’t ready. There are still more experiences to be had, more wisdom to be gained so that we can be prepared to face eternity alongside each other.
Truthfully, I am afraid. I’m scared of how these lessons will affect me. I can sense my own detachment. Apathy. Distance. My heart feels guarded. I know I’ve said this before, but you wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t get through it. It just seems that at present, I can’t think of anyone who would be willing to.
So I was struck by a thought today. It has been such a long time since I felt so strongly for someone that it scared me. Overwhelmed me. Surprised me. You wouldn’t be you if you couldn’t make me feel that way. But I guess I should just think about this moment so that I can compare it to when you happen.
I wonder if I’ll know what you’ll mean to me right away. Or if it’ll take me some time to realize it. Sorry if I take longer than you hoped. But at least that’s how you’ll know I’ll be sure. About you. About us. I like to be certain. And I like to think carefully.
I hope you’ll complement me in all the ways I need growth. And I hope I do the same for you.
I am trying to remind myself that I will meet you when the time is right, and I have to get over the fact that the time is not now. I am impatient. You will learn this. Hopefully, you’ll have enough patience for the both of us. So much so that I can’t help but absorb some of it for myself.
I am interested to learn the ways in which you will change me.
Last Saturday night, I was sitting at my dining table with a book and giant mug (I love giant mugs) full of hot apple cider. I couldn’t help but imagine you sitting across from me with a book of your own. We would sit in the most comfortable silence, just reading away on a Saturday night. Thinking that made me happy.
De Anna sent me a text last night that I then told her she’d have to tell you to incorporate in your vows. They are the following:
"I know somewhere deep deep down in the abyss of your dark soul, you love me. And that’s all that matters."
Knowing me, you’d know how much that amused me. Because right now, it’s painfully accurate. But once you come around, I hope the abyss will have shallowed.