unopened letter to the world

What is it exactly that you mean to me? When I think about you, what do I see? I have a weird personality - an inherent disconnect from the rest of the world that borders on indifference. There's very few things I can't just up and walk away from and not bat an eyelid. I've built a sort of wall around myself through which nothing goes. I'm an expert at play it safe, and keep it cool, I've become much too good at being untouchable. How I got this way can't really say I know, but that's how I am. I take no prisoners. While connections last they rule, and when they end, they really end. It's like they were never there. I'm protected that way, I guess, from all the pain and disappointment. But then I'm also precluded from all the joy and elation. Just as I can never really hurt, I can never really yearn, pine away, languish; I can also never fully enjoy. I can never fully immerse myself in something, feel nothing other than the here and the now, make the moment last forever. My gift, is also my burden. So it only makes sense that you ask yourself, that you ask me, what do you mean to me?

I've had a taste of what it's like to be in love. To think about someone other than myself. To put myself life in someone else's hands, and have her put hers in mine (albeit a bit different than the army does it, hehe). To open myself up to the possibility of getting hurt, and thus create in my heart a window for the chance of being truly and completely happy. To look at her and see forever. To see myself through her eyes and see like a halo around my head, to see her through my own eyes and see perfection. When all the chips are down, it's a beautiful feeling. It's like I'm floating. Time stops, and sound stops, and movement stops, and nothing else in the world exists but the two of us. I totally feel Lifehouse: "...And how can I stand here, and not be moved by you? Tell me, how can it get better than this..."

Maybe I don't tell you this quite as often as I should, but you're always on my mind. You're the one I want to see when I wake up, and the hand I want to hold when I go to sleep. The little things you do, like blink a hundred miles a second, or talk to both me and the good people of the Republic of China at the same time, or pout and tilt your head and start nodding at everything I ask, or punch me when you should be thanking me, or say "Goodness!!", or go from sulking to ecstatic and back in 5 seconds flat; the ones no one else does, those are the ones that constantly take my breath away. The way we think about the same things at the same time, the way you say no when I say something you don't want to do, that we actually disagree on things sometimes, the way you sit and look spaced out for the longest time, and then go and say something that makes me speechless, the kinds of dreams you have even; these are a few of my favorite things.

Yes. I do have an inherent disconnect from the rest of the world that borders on indifference. And I do act like I'm made of stone. And I do take no prisoners. But there's also a different side to me, apparently. Turns out it's not that hard to draw blood out of a stone - all you have to do is get it to fall in love. You're not the air I breathe, but in many ways you are the reason I breathe. When I think about my life before you, it's like I wasn't even living. You've shown me what it's like to want nothing more, to be well and truly gratified. I've seen the other half of the yellow sun, and now I know that the best things in life aren't things. I wanna hold your hand and never let go. Marcel Proust said to be grateful to those who make us happy, they are the charming gardeners that make our souls blossom. You make me happy. You make my the future a place I want to go. You make tomorrow worth looking forward to. I grew up a cynic, but now I believe in a thing called love. There are two tragedies in life: one is to lose your heart's desire, and the other is to gain it. If that be true, then call me a masochist and give me tragedy any day, because what I feel right now, is for lack of better words pure magic.

END