Dear you,
I was listening to Coldplay a while ago and I suddenly remembered the first time I met you. It was in one of my dreams and in it I was walking down a corridor towards a staircase that led to a huge wooden double door. When I pushed the doors open, I found myself outdoors, in the middle of a large crowd of people who were waving their hands high above their heads and singing along to a familiar song. There were bright lights coming from a stage, and I think I could even see fireworks from afar. And there you were, in the middle of the crowd, and you looked at me. Somehow, even though I couldn’t see your face clearly, I knew it was you.
I’ve never forgotten that dream. Not after all these years.
As time passed, I met different boys whom I believed to be you. One was a lover of music and had a strange sense of humor, one was tall and conventionally romantic. There were moments when I would find myself amidst fireworks or songs I loved, in the middle of a large crowd under the night sky, and I would look around, hoping to see you. But I never did.
I’m probably getting my dream all mixed up, though. What if it wasn’t outdoors, but indoors? What if there wasn’t really a large crowd, or music, or fireworks? It’s been too long. All I’m sure of is the night sky, some lights, and you. Have I already met you? Are you still there, or have you been around all this time? What if we had our chance and missed it, or what if we made a mess?
Maybe we don’t even like the same things, or maybe we do. After all, I don’t think I can end up with someone who doesn’t read or share at least some things and dreams in common with me. You might like Harry Potter, but you probably also read Stephen King and Palahniuk. Maybe you’re a football man to my basketball girl. Or you listen to Phoenix and The Kooks but you don’t like U2 or Nat King Cole, like the Eraserheads but not Coldplay (really? I mean, why not?), prefer Nickelodeon to Disney, want to visit South America instead of Europe, and so on. Little things, easy compromises. As long as our fundamental values are similar, it’s all good.
Besides, it’s really always been the words, the affinity for language and its use in conveying things that need to be said. But at the same time, it’s also always been the silence in between. It’s the same silence that passed between us when you looked at me for the very first time.
Know, however, that I wait for you in the heart of the suburbs, in between shelves in bookstores, in the middle of a concert crowd, among the linen sheets and pillows in hotel beds, in corridors between classrooms. Your timing isn’t exactly wonderful, I understand that now. But I’ll wait for you anyway. I hope you’ll forgive me, you know what for. Know, my dear, that I love you now, always have and always will. I loved you in those whom I loved, and I love you in the wind that passes from here to where you are. I love you in your absence and I will love you in your presence.
Someday, someday. I’ve seen too many 80′s movies and read too many books, and maybe I’m a little in over my head. But hope springs eternal.
Love,
Me
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