I’ve not any of an idea how to write a love letter, but someone had asked me to write one, so I’m writing one. She’s given me a particular topic to focus on, but I’ve never really lost a lover before so not a sliver will I be able to feel what she had felt or is feeling.
I’m not writing this letter to anyone in particular. Although God knows I just might have a person in mind, but that person doesn’t count as someone who deserves a letter–I’ve written so many words about you already. You need not any more. But nevertheless, here is a letter I’m writing completely out of sympathy. A presentation of how I think love could and would be. A hopeful cluster of words from someone who’s never been in love before.
As you are now, you might be living a very normal day in your life. Or maybe not. Maybe you’re into something drastic I won’t ever be aware of, but hello. You might have read the title. And you might have noticed that it’s spot on. Yes, you, I am writing a love letter. And it is for you.
Truth be told, I’ve not any idea as to what I should say to you. For all I know, I could be saying all the wrong things. I could be embarrassing myself already. But the hell gives a damn about what the world thinks about this. I’m writing this to talk about you. To talk to you. Call this cliché–I won’t give a damn about it either. It’s not cliché; it’s honest.
I don’t know where and how I’ll start. Nobody knows about this, but I could spend all my hours just with the thought of you in my mind. I could spend all hours of me being awake talking about you. I’ve spent weeks and months trying to get rid of the thought of you, but all of it vanishes when you pass by. I then get flooded by more feelings I thought I had started to successfully drive away.
You are a goddamned puzzle that’s composed of tiny pieces scattered across the places you step your feet on. I could stare you down and try to figure you out, but I will never be able to find those pieces you left on your wake. And then I’m left to attempt to achieve something impossible. Whether you believe this or not, the thought of these words occurred when I remembered you walking past me whilst I read a few days ago. I don’t know what’s it within you, but words spring out of my head like music even just in the most normal of things as long as you’re the one doing them. And that’s insane. Because little do I know about you. I hope I didn’t. I hope I knew more about you.
You are the sky. I could be anywhere and I’d still see you there. Just, just there. Tattooed into my mind like the words from my favorite songs. Like the phrases and expressions my classmates loved to say so much and are on the verge being adapted by me in my daily language. I don’t want you. I don’t want to be thinking of you. I don’t want you to be a part of my daily language. And yet here I am. Getting all clammy, dramatic, wordy, and eloquent because of you.
You are ridiculous. Please tell me you never once tried stealing a glance towards my direction. Please tell me you paid me no attention ever. Because I hate it. I hate it when you glance over my direction. I hate it when you swivel your head towards where I just might be. I hate it because I want you so so badly to be looking straight at me-straight into my eyes. My eyes that just might possibly be drilling holes into your head because of how hard I’d stare at you when you’re near.
I hate you. A lot. I hate that you’re everywhere in my head. I hate that even though I don’t want to, I still keep on trying to figure you out. I hate that you manage to make me feel funny when you’re within my vicinity.
I know this is hopeless. Impossible, even. But I really hope you know me. I really hope I know you. Because maybe, hopefully maybe, when I know of you, I’d start forgetting about you. Hopefully, I’d stop seeing you the way I do now. Hopefully, I start to hate you.
Here’s to hoping. I hope you have a good life.