Dear You

I realize you are probably very far away right now.

And I realize that you are probably very different from me, too.

You probably are generally content or discontent with your life, unlike me. You probably don't lie awake at night thinking about whether you're real or not. Because if you do, well, that could be a problem.

You probably don't want to be a magazine girl one moment, and very much yourself the other. You probably don't think about God outside that vague sense of happiness. You've probably shoved him in a logical box, while he's slowly evaporating.

You probably don't paint your nails "Raven Red" when you worry, or stay up 'til 2 on a school night just because you know time doesn't exist. You probably don't have pages and pages of lists of things you really need but you'll never get.

You probably aren't terribly complex, although I wish you were. You probably would scare me at first. Why, you ask? Why, because you'd be the first one. Your eyes in mine. It's a sign of the times.

It means, in a way, I'd be ready to die.

I'd be willing to give you all my secrets.

It means I'd be very much alone.

And I realize that it's narcissistic of me to hope you understand me, when I am sometimes, strangely, less interested in you. Do you think it's wrong to use someone else to find yourself? I do. I very much do. But we do it everyday, through that guitar, that bent page. And that crazy social network.

But what I mean to say is this: Maybe your eyes are plain, and not sparkling green, blue, orange pools of exotic exhibition. Maybe your hair isn't handsome or fine, but a little knotted, and lazily coarse. Perhaps your hands aren't refined and elegant. Maybe they're broad, but perfect for handywork. Your smile might be quirkier than I could ever imagine. Your voice might not be very low, but your laugh might be just right. I just have to write this to remind myself that not everything I want is human, but I need something that is.

And I know this is getting long, so I'll try to write more often with less junk. You're probably one of those people that likes words to "get on with it", and I understand.

I was like that once.