To The You-I-Don't-Know
Well, a restless night has me looking through some stories, and I found an old (not too old I guess haha) little piece. Not quite story-esque in plot, but maybe one of those 'love-letters' people seem to write haha, and so the character is never named, nor a setting given save for the mind....or maybe that's a bad justification heh. Kind of a love letter for single people--an odd thought I guess. I wanted to write (and so I did) to that 'special someone' that fairy tales say is out there for everyone, and so the odd little letter gained a bit of shape. Something addressed to a single person, but without any real address--so the analogy might go! Not sure if it'll really be anyone's cup of tea or not, as it's much more a personal bit of feelings that perhaps only my mind has, but I do hope some parts are inclusive to plenty of people-but, perhaps a reader will go through and remember some of the feelings and connect with it.
I'll probably delete this...so, I don't know why I bother writing to you...heh, a bit funny that I say 'you' as there may not be such a person out there, but...I want to believe otherwise. Although I guess belief is a strange thing, it doesn't seem to matter what you believe at times (ok, that could go down a very strange path to follow that thought...). I could go on for quite sometime about a variety of pathetic subjects: why I write this in an attempt to feel better, how the world is strange, how my mind is weird (arguable I guess [though I guess it truly is]), and well, really so many things....but I won't. I won't waste more time talking about myself to you, because......I truly hope, that if this ever reaches you, if it still exists, that you'll know me quite well then. And that is putting it lightly. Even as it is, this letter will only go so far...only grab a little of life, a glimpse of a moment, perhaps nothing more, or so a bit of me hopes lest it mean my being is truly so small heh...but...for now, for this moment, I'll let the words run, even if that seems to lead the jumbled mess I'm sure it will........
It's not all bad. That's what I mean to say to you right now. I think it's all absolutely horrible right now, that life is a tiny bit of hell; though I imagine such a place would be quite worse indeed. Truly, it more is like...like even though I can smile, even though I can laugh and feel fine...that is not how it all is: there is something deeper in me, sadder...and it's only growing it feels like. I don't have someone to confide in about those things...or perhaps I do, if I ever would trust people. But...even then, what I'm yearning for is something more...something I imagine you give me: whatever that strange cryptic thing is....assuming you know me, then you'll know how much of a pathetic liar I am because here I am talking about me again and how life is bad while I said, "It's not all bad"...heh...well, I'll continue then: continue from this moment, right now, writing to the you I don't know, to the you who I can only pray is out there, even if I tell myself that it's stupid to do this, and that even writing this is a waste of time.
If you're like me, then you play the optimist, you let the entire world think that you're uppity about life and I'm not saying you aren't: it's good to believe in the better side of people, of life. But you never let that other side be seen, at least in public--where it seems like life, well, frankly, sucks--but it'll get better. I'd like to think because we find one another, but...whose to say that ever happens? They say it gets better, and so we should be optimistic I guess. I hope you aren't like me, at least not in the bad ways...and those are oh-so-many...it'd be best not to make a list heheh. Maybe you're so much braver than I am, letting yourself be true, not ashamed of how the world is going to see you: your interests to say just one thing. And if so, I hope you stay brave, stay up and can be a pillar that others can look at and think "wow...I wish I could be more like him,".....or maybe you're like me, and you feel like a waste of space sometimes: like you're trash. Lying to your friends and family, telling yourself you're not really lying because you're "not exactly not telling the truth, nor denying things and just letting the questions and answers hide up in the air"......and that's all nice and good...it's safe that way--safe is good, I tell myself that much enough.
But right now, if you're feeling like I do. Hopeless. Angry. Upset. Scared. Confused. Then I hope...if the love we share is strong...then that you too can be strong. I'm not strong though, even though I'm going to try and be...and maybe...after this night, when the sun comes up and the world is busy again...maybe I will think this letter is silly, a foolish attempt to console my aching mind. This all just occurred to me. I don't want to be so many things: smart, or rich, or famous, or any of those things actually. I want to be with you, whoever you are, and I think about what you would think of me. Maybe you're not ashamed of me like I am myself so many times...I hope you're happy, truly.
This entire message hasn't come across well I know. It's been some jumbled mess, even more so as I write this to you thinking/assuming...hahaha, no...really, just guessing for purposes of making it more seemly (in that way it seems only my mind understands)...I...think that entire bit right there was terrible--what I mean to say is if 'you' even exist. But...if I'm writing this to you, right now, as you are, before we've met, before you know who I am and before I know who you are...that's what I mean, that is to whom I write (a letter to the future...that's the simple version I guess). And I don't know how to get the letter to you...maybe some divine means will send it across the world into your mind or soul and, you'll be comforted. Or maybe it'll stay on my computer...gaining dust so to speak.
I hope you are doing OK. I do well enough--sometimes it feels bad, sometimes it feels OK. I feel ok sometimes, and it's not like everything is bad, but I can't count the good too much either. I'm sad and lonely...pathetic because this is perhaps all by my own fault...if only I were brave, I'm so sorry I'm not. But when I think of you, or just the chance of meeting you, I feel better...if only a little. My mind says it's utterly stupid, that this letter is the most pathetic thing I've ever written, and perhaps it is...maybe I will end up alone, but seeing as how this is addressed to you...the you who completes whatever makes up the mess that is me.......I am working on the presumption of your existence and our eventual meeting--I hope it comes soon. Or maybe we've already met: maybe it was just a 'hey' on the street, or maybe just a passing glimpse, maybe you were one of the people I awkwardly 'stared' at in the library...you know, those times when I just look off into space and end up leering at someone......or maybe we haven't met yet...and if so, as I said, I pray it comes soon.
But it's worth the wait...so they say. I'm weird, I hold relationships in some high-up-place in my mind, where their worth can overcome the angst of the world....where it'd make all the things I'm feeling right now utterly worthless and laughable...maybe laughable in your arms--that sounds like a nice place. You don't know me...the me who is writing this....and I certainly don't know you......but I want you to know that it's OK. I guess that's what I mean.
Years.
That's how long it may be. It could be so long before we ever meet, and then even longer before one of us can open up to the other...I hope it's sooner though. But, if only because of how they seem in my mind...I think it's worth whatever wait there may be. I hope you are OK...I hope you are doing great, that everything that is going on in my life (which I'm sure I make out to be sooo horrible) isn't going on in yours, or that if it is...that you'll come out of it quite well....I know I will...somehow. You know what they say: so it goes.
Please be well...I write this to you when I've yet to meet you as you've yet to meet me, and the words scare me so hilariously that I fear I'll have a breakdown...but...to the you, whoever you are, I can only imagine I love you...words I don't know at this moment: not as I wish to portray...I hope I tell them to you enough......and that I thank you for everything you do for me.......and, as I write this in some weird state of mind in which I jot down my feelings at this moment: feelings I will most likely laugh off and cast away as biochemical imbalances, mind-fog rantings, not getting sleep, or something like that, I find that the words continue to come back...from a silly part of a book that I feel is better to quote than ramble on in my own ways, so better to steal another man's words, no?...a part I may have taken too seriously in an attempt to find solace...and it returns...because in this letter...what I will do is what was told: Hope and Wait.......and if you do the same...perhaps one day...we can meet...
See you around...I hope