Found
I’m writing a letter to you because I want to talk to you, tell you how much you mean to me, tell you how much I care about you, tell you how much I love you; but we can’t talk right now. This letter will never reach you. Or, maybe when I die many decades from now or tomorrow (who knows?) someone will be kind enough to get it to you. (I hope you will outlive me.) Or perhaps I’ll let you read it one day.
I am completely in love with you. I know you know this already, but you don’t know what I mean when I say this. When most people fall in love, it’s like they’re at the top of a hill and they trip and come tumbling down, and there at the bottom is the one they love. I used to fall like that too. No grace, just a misplaced step.
But not this time, not with you. With you I am climbing a skyscraper to the very top. At the peak, I look down and see how far the ground is. It’s a long drop. I know this. I’m not scared to jump. It will be purposeful. All at once I will throw myself into the air. It will still be a reckless fall, but beautifully so. Not like the recklessness of the hill. This is not a misplaced step, this is a meaningful leap. When I land, I will be fine. No bones broken. Because I will control the landing. I can do this because I am soaring … downward … recklessly. I choose to be reckless because if you’re careful, it means something bad may happen if you’re not … but if you’re carefree, it means you’re not afraid that something bad may happen.
That’s another thing you do for me: you make me fearless. I’m not afraid of what will happen next. I’m not afraid that I may get hurt or you may get hurt. I’m not worried about the future because whatever happens is supposed to happen.
The only thing I’m afraid of is what-ifs. The only thing I will ever regret are chances I never took and words I left unspoken
You are the first right after a series of wrong turns that led me to the middle of nowhere, but now I think I finally know where I am.
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