Muditā

For Lindsey

Muditā

How does one know hurt? How does one know when they have reached said limit? How does one travel to the vast purview of this colossal world? How does one cope with the ugly realities that plague our everyday life? How does one forget? How does one feel?

How is it that the things we value least become the ones we cherish most once they’re taken from us? How is it that such insignificant concepts become significant? How is it that when the sky is on fire and our hearts are shattered, and when we feel all alone, that the world seems to abandon you? How is it that when you need them most, friends desert you, family spurns you, and society throws you into exile?

Why is it so? Why is it when all seems lost, and when you believe you can drop no further, you plummet to the depths of oblivion? Why is it that crying hurts? Why is it that beyond love all feels meaningless? Why? Why-why-why-why? Why does it hurt to be shunned? Why does it hurt to be left behind? Why does it hurt to experience heartbreak? Why does it hurt to feel abandonment? Why does it hurt to be alone? Why does it hurt to lose what you once had? Why does it hurt to remember? Why does it hurt as you walk? As you sleep? As you run and dive? Why does it hurt when you speak? Why does it hurt to feel? Why does it hurt to hurt? Why does it hurt to understand? Why does it hurt to accept what I refuse? Why does it hurt to live? Why does it hurt to wail? Why does it hurt to even squeeze a hum from the depths of my esophagus? Why does it hurt to move on?

I understood as the sun set on the distant horizons of our world, that it hurt. It truly hurt. I had failed. Or at least, I felt so. I was defeated. I knew not what I could do, nor what I had done. For I had hope. I had believed I could get through to Her. I had believed it could be so. But it just wasn’t so.

I fell in love with my best friend. Everyone knows that is a fool’s game. But nonetheless I did just that. She was a new hope in my life. A light. Her moronic jokes often brought a smile to my face despite their dullness. Her mediocre mask was one I yearned for. Her puzzled streaks of blonde and chestnut that imbued the bulk of Her hair was the stuff to gaze at all the hours of the day. Her silver lined eyes melted the beating hearts of men. Her gaunt and yet broad build, alluring as always. But Her voice-oh Her voice. Her speech like that of the Wood Thrush. Her song like that of a Nightingale. Her speech as soothing as the waves of the Pacific. And Her intentions as pure and sincere as that of a Daffodil.

The way her eyes widened and narrowed in correlation to Her inner thoughts. They would speak truth wherever they stared. They would speak trust, fear, joy, love, shame, betrayal, desire, happiness, malice, sorrow, guilt, and all. To know Her you must look to the eyes, and you shall see.

They were not green nor blue, nor red or bronze. They were simply silver, a borderline of gray and white, maybe a slight blue. She always thought poorly of Her skin, at least fretted over the smallest of things. The little things, why must it always be the little things? Why is it-that such insignificant things always defeat us in the end?

As much as I assured Her, that She was the most exquisite creature of the land, no words or actions could ever thrust Her out from that pit of ugly despair and self-awareness.

Of course, I tried day and night to pull Her mind out of such criticizing thoughts. For my heart ached every time She looked down upon herself. She was no award-winning actress, or anything of the nature. She was just a normal girl. A girl who had friends. A girl who lived alone. A girl who liked tennis.

But to me She was the most beautiful of them all. To me She triumphed in beauty and heart. To me She was perfect. An angel descended from heaven. A gift from the unforgiving universe. I knew then, I was in love. But how harsh the truth of love. The reality which engulfs such a perplexing concept. For love cannot exist, in a void. Furthermore, love cannot be a one-way street.

But no matter what I said or how I said it, at the end of the day, she never viewed herself in the way I did. She never viewed herself as the magnificent person she was. She never saw the beauty or the true value I perceived. She never accepted what it was to be. She never saw the princess; I saw Her to be.

But nonetheless I persisted. Pursuing a dream, I long believed would bring me peace. Pursuing a dream which I trusted.

How Her values lit a fire in my soul. How Her ways and demeanor inspired a fire of battle. I never quite understood, how man could be so ignorant, so oblivious to what is and what has been. But She understood. She understood the many laws of life. She understood the concepts of morality. Of right and wrong, of good and bad, of light and evil. For Her morals are what lured me in the first place. For I had believed I was the fisherman, and she was my big fish, but that couldn’t be more distant from the truth. I was the fish, and She had reeled me in. I now believe I have been tossed back to sea. Perhaps I was not big enough? Perhaps my catcher has brewed resentment? For how could she not see, what she has upon Her? A bright blue marlin the size of a living child. Let me stay I beg. Let me join your journey back home. But my catcher insists, this shall not be.

But Her values are those of a warrior. I know them to the bone. From Her deepest of insecurities, to the darkest of secrets. She does not believe in violence, but justice is a must. Nor does she believe that equality has been absent. She is true to Her words, true to Her beliefs, and that I admire among many attributes. Never has she wavered nor backed down. Her truths have been Her guidance through the storms of this world.

I see now that I look up to such values. Not only do I honor them, but I connect with them. How so am I meant to let Her go? When such values have brought us together, and as one divided us in the end. But I love Her, I do. More than anything else I do. The concept of civics surrounds the bulk of our friendship.

****

I remember when we first began to talk. When we put ourselves out there and began to speak about political claims. We bonded over the “eruption of volcanoes”, we bonded over the senseless arguments in our political government. Making mocking gestures about our current government and leading officials. How the times have changed…how the tides have turned, and everything has shifted.

When such dilemmas about our government came up, or perhaps it was an inquiry of depth, we bonded deeply over the conversation of such subjects. We bonded over “deep questions”. Of course, this became a constant throughout our beginning friendship. Staying up late at night or hours of the day talking and bonding over our similar values and ideals. Her values were firm in faith and logic. She did not insist on drinking the Kool-aid which the world presented to Her. I admired that about her. Neither did she believe in arrogant justice, nor did she believe the hypocrisy and ignorant minds of our society.

It was always about what was right with Her. She always did what was right. Or at least she attempted to. Her political stance is of no matter. For Her values are what made Her shine. They are what exalted Her. As I did once.

She never wavered for them. Common ground could be found, but Her values and direction of morality was never abandoned. We talked and talked until the sun matured and the skies would turn a dark burgundy. Not once did we disagree. At least not really. We had linked mindsets from the moment of meet.

Her values were: honorable, respectful, loving, generous, compassionate, mature, decent, giving, sacrificing, friendly, impactful, empathetic, patient, forgiving and every concept of greatness my feeble mind could recommend.

Have I ever doubted such values? Well. That’s a story for later on. Aside from my inevitable doubts, Her values were always true. True to Her and true to truth. They had become a light and guide in my life. But how could values I already uphold become a beacon in my growth? How can something I already believe in, suddenly take shift into something paramount when it was there all along? What was it about Her that changed everything? Had She known all along? Did She have such a key to my life and my mind that She knew just the beliefs that would guide me? I refuse to affirm that is the legitimacy of the case. But how else might my mind justify, such adoration and praise and esteem I have for Her? Is She not just another girl? Is She not just as ordinary as you, or your neighbor, or your professor of Physics 101? Is She not just as routine and typical as your brother or sister? What was it about Her that lured me like a fish to a hook? Like a lamb to the slaughter and a pig to the pen? Like a cat to a crimson fleck that blinked from structure to structure? Like a shark to a glimmer in the vast ocean?

Things are just so.

Yes, they are so.

And they will hurt. But nonetheless, we believe.

We believe in the truth that is and the certitude we hold to our chests. That is what She and I believed in. We believed in our bond. In our trust. In our fellowship.

****

Blood is a complicated thing. We bleed and shall you let your veins dry out, your body shall wither. Blood is often at dissonance. Blood will often hurt and betray you. Treason is what its crime shall be. But nonetheless, Blood is a treacherous thing. A grisly beast with the hideous light of something anathema to the camaraderie of men, and amidst its vile, heinous, and nefarious aims, can concurrently deliver the endowments of pulchritude, humility, grace and the tenderness and devotion of men and women alike despite the abasement of envy that so very often plagues the household of our mortality.

Her Blood was intricate. For Her clan had often forsaken Her. Not Her bearer or Her sire had become heroes in Her life. Such shame Her Blood brought upon itself. So often I yearned I could throw myself in Her stead. Take Her place. End Her torment.

But She had become accustomed to such avarice and belittling from Her Blood. So comfortable, it no longer riled Her. So often I tried to help Her. So often did I try to reach. To take Her hand and guide Her. To be…a friend. But so helplessly I failed. I failed. I failed Her.

Perhaps She held back at times. Perhaps She was afraid. Afraid of trusting me with the voids of Her reality. No matter how regularly I’d reassure, Her “bubble” and comfort zone persisted. This is not to say She did not reside Her trust in me. She trusted me with all She had, or so I choose to believe. But some things are just too heavy to speak of.

How do you find the right words for a family that betrays you? How do you describe the pain of resentment and exile by your own Blood? How do you confront your close friend and tell him…that you have reached rock bottom? How does one humble themselves? How does one come to terms with the awful realities and the hindrance of hardships in their lives? How does one persist? How does one heal….?

How does one trust? Yet She trusted me.

And nonetheless, renounced by Her tribe She was. Her own House, banning Her from its love. However, despite the hatred from them, many remained. Her own kin, Her brother stayed along the way. Matteo was his name.

And then of course Her troop of friends were always there. Offering their support and unconditional love. That is when I told Her the true meaning of Blood. The meaning of family. She and I were family. I had Her back, and She had mine. That is when I told Her: they may be blood, but they are not Blood. Blood are those who remain. Blood are those who love. Blood are those, who are always there. No matter what.

****

No bond among friends is perfect. Nothing lasts forever either. Everything lays to waste at some point. But for as long as I lived, I had promised I’d never leave Her side. That I would always be Her friend. But how can such an insurmountable promise ever last? Had I meant what I said? Of course I did. I would work to be Her friend as long as possible.

Our friendship was always different from what you’d see between the typical nine to five workman and his petite and coy girlfriend from halfway across town. We had always trusted each other. There was a potent vestige at the heart of our friendship’s foundation.

All day long and late into the night, we’d talk and laugh and bicker about the smallest of things. The smallest of things always seemed to bring about the better topics to talk about. Those Deep Questions always seemed to get a reaction out of Her. And not in a bad way. Although She did once confess my long paragraphs over text would more so than often cause Her to freak out. Most likely because She hates surprises and never knew what to expect. I had always been a sort of enigma to Her, a sort of riddle.

I poured my heart out more than once. More than once did I have it ache as well. However, not once did I take it back, not once did I regret the reason for my pain. My friendship with Her was my priority. And I was willing to push through for the sake of our devotion.

I remember the days when we began to talk about new things. Things such as meeting in person, about rejoicing in each other’s presence. And in the beginning I had believed, She wanted just as much as I did. But the ending to this story must be stalled. Its ending is one I am ashamed of. One that drives a skean of hurt through my core. But alas, I take luxury and joy in reliving such memories. In remembering fondly what it was about you, my heart once yearned for dearly. How did you never see? Never foresaw my true role in your life. To you, I was a friend in love. To you, I was a boy. A fool who had been led adrift by his deceiving and perfidious heart. An innocent bystander of an innocent crime. One outside of our control. Neither you or I are guilty of such measures and consequences. Our hearts broke for two very different reasons.

But in the end, you never truly realized, to me, I was more than just a friend in love to you. I discerned what such duty was the moment you confided in me about the murder nearby. When I immediately assumed my role of guardian. A silent protector you view as a friend. Oh, dear Capri, you never realized, your safety and happiness always stood tall above my feelings and my friendship to you. For I’d never take satisfaction in seeing your downfall, never would I wish such ills and misfortunes upon your being. All I ever want is happiness for you. And to ever God forbid, see such calamity befall you, I shall break down to my knees and sob.

For a man cannot truly mourn. Not without being titled as an anemic boy by society. Not even a man. A boy and nothing more. But such misfortune to ever befall you, God forbid, the world is betrayed with the absence and theft of your light, would compel me to slump to the dirt of the earth into a violent outcry of aggrievement. A bleeding of the soul. I would much rather you find a new lover and reject my frame than to let you go to the misfortunes of the world. Much rather would I prefer, you to make love in the arms of another, than to ever see you in pain.

Perhaps I am not a man. Perhaps if such sobs from such unlikely events would make me any less a man, it would be so. And I would be content. For my hurt and sorrow would be true. For you, I would never forget.

Your laughter and smile were always what brightened my day. The times I would just admire your frame and loving heart as you performed typical daily activities, are beyond those I can count. How so am I a romantic? To find myself getting lost in the tinniest of details. From the beauty of your cliché hair to the delicateness of your white skin, to the alluring of your mediocre build. Such flaws you could ever find in yourself, I found, I loved.

The times you’d come home, your mind in a distant place. Sure, the booze would often assist in that, but such instances were always fun. You’d speak true and honest and then become a blushing and embarrassed mess like a six-year-old schoolgirl. Our trust would magnify and reach to the farthest corners of our divine and fallen world.

A fortunate blessing of serendipity had befallen me with the introduction of yourself into my life. Our sarcasm and antics often entertained us day and night. Our ridicule of political stupidity was what kept that fire of humor alive in our souls.

We however were not always comfortable with every Deep Question we asked. Often, they concerned our dark pasts and our former mistakes as ancient individuals. But ever since we met, we were reborn. We were changed. For the better. Both, I’d like to think, happier. But time and again you proved to me, that disclosure about such pasts was not something to shield and be ashamed of. Through your own trust and confidence, I learned too, how to open-up.

Ah the names we’d call each other. From Bear to Beebes, from Dumbass to Escorpio. Each of our names defined us, each of our names united us. We most often agreed. Little did we not. And when we did not, we often respected our grounds and found some common ones too.

“Erupting like Pompeii” is the term we used. The term for our irritation when such politics and slurs came up. Policies in our government for which we did not agree with. However, we’d often end up laughing by the end of our “eruptions”. Laughing. Smiling. Reminiscing…oh how I reminisce. How I miss you.

But that, is all done now.

Gone.

Am I so young you cannot, see?

See me for who I am?

Am I such a bad person you could never love me?

Are my lips and my eyes not enough to satisfy your needs?

Are my hands and arms not strong enough to hold you when the cold is near?

Is my heart so terribly tainted and my motives so led astray that my actions are in vain?

What is it about me darling you cannot accept? Am I just the right person, only arrived at the wrong time?

I feel lost.

There was a time when I truly believed you loved me. Or at least the feelings were fighting to break through. To manifest in the depths of your heart and fuel the blood in your veins and power the will and desires of your mind.

But perhaps that blossoming love was also a lie. For it is all over now.

And for what?

Because of anomalies outside of our control? Why can’t we just persist? Perseverance has never been a cheap thing. A thing of failure. Of course, I know, the anomalies are not worth fighting, if the love was never there. If the will and vision for such a union was nothing but ever a fantasy on my side.

Now I know the hurt that resides within me. Now I see the truth of what such pain truly is. How can I ever expect to heal? For the hopes of finding someone like you are but another fantasy.

Won’t you stay with me?

Don’t you believe my words when I tell you we can make it work? Don’t you believe me darling when I speak about my love for you? Don’t you see, we belong together. But I also know, I cannot wait forever, for my heart shall harden.

Could I ever love another?

Possibly so.

Would it be the same?

Absolutely not.

I once loved a girl. Not you but when I was younger. But such love was a mere figment of my immaturity. I could not yet grasp the framework and standards of what true love is. It was nonetheless, a puppy love.

But you changed those concepts and definitions for me. For the love you taught me was unreal. Beyond the comprehension of most men and women. The love you taught me, was the undying type. For the love you taught me was not as societal norms have so strongly enforced over the years. The love I learned from you was true. It revolved around giving, not taking. Around love, not lust. Around sacrifice, not needs. The love you taught me was the one with bumps in the road. The type of love that isnt’ free and isn’t easy. And I know I failed you on more than one occasion. I know I’ve let you down.

But my heart yearns for you. Day and night. And unplanned conversations throughout the day will often remind me of you. Remind me of your friendship. I realize now, you have no reason to listen to me.

I know there are choices you’ll have to make soon. Choices that’ll contradict your own values. But I no longer have such a position in your life, where I can advise you not to take those risks. For I, more than anybody else wishes you success and good fortune. Your dreams are my dreams. Your desires are the ones of my heart. I hope for nothing but to see you reach those mountaintops. But your well-being is above all. Nonetheless, don’t listen to me. The ramblings of a fool enslaved by the deception of his heart. A fool who stumbled and dipped into the red pool of yearning.

We were never meant to be friends. We were simply associates. But all of that changed. I do not know, if I remain, the only one who cares. Time and time again, you assure me you care. But my own doubts and stubborn nature compels me to inhabit in skepticism. I do not know how you feel anymore. Perhaps you have longed moved on by now. Perhaps the days and nights when we’d laugh and theorize about my feelings and a possible future in a distant dream where you and I were in union, are nothing but grains of sand and tumbleweeds of dust in the wind. Perhaps all hope is lost.

After all, “never” …means never. And forever is a long time. Longer than I would care to wait, and I fear my heart will forever be in torment then. Or perhaps I will move on. Perhaps I will find another.

And yet I shall be haunted by the memory of you. The memory of a thing once so very good. A thing that brought joy and healing into my heart.

You were there in times of mourning. In times of distress and in times of joy. Just as I was there in times of sorrow and doubt. I like to think I’ve been a friend. But perhaps I haven’t really been one. Afterall, most would agree, I am a terrible friend. There is a beautiful delusion, a fantasy I often find myself daydreaming. It came first when I first saw your face. Not because of your unexplainable beauty, but because I knew, I was staring at the woman I was going to marry.

But in this dream, no turmoil or fear resides. One could say it’s the closest adaptation to Heaven’s door as any theologian could achieve. A true rendition of what paradise might be like. In this dream, there is a home. Not modern, but not rustic either. Perhaps a middle ground between both. Triangular roofs, wooden planks. A white exterior, the paint fresh. A wooden porch that extends across the front of the house, atop a green lawn with freshly cut grass. The home has two stories. Not big, but neither small. Enough for a family of four. The insides once again do not resemble those of a cabin and yet do not represent the modern day culture.

A sense of comfort and family resides within these walls. A sense of hope and peace. The rays of sunshine which shine through the windowpanes and the silence that abides within the rooms of the home creates a taste of tranquility. So soft the sounds that the trickle of the water droplets from the kitchen faucet can echo to the horizons of the restroom down the hall. So soft the vibrations of the locust clinging to a strand of grass amidst the lawn can be witnessed from the dining room inside. The home is quiet.

One could say the street is dead as only a neighborly woman walks her dog in her workout leggings and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Mid-forties I’d give her. And yet with so little happening on the main street of the suburban neighborhood, such community beams with life. Unseen. Unheard. Silent life.

The warm sun preparing its descent as a cool breeze sets in. The swaying of the grass to the breeze creating a soft lullaby for the birds to chirp to. It truly is a bittersweet symphony.

But despite the peace, the dream does not cease its focus there. For down the hall, past the rooms on left and right. One with navy blue walls, a bed with automobile labels and superhero graphic novels on a shelf beside a glass desk. Whereas the other room has white walls with pink shelves and nightstand. A bed with a tarp of silk draping down the sides like that of a princess’s chamber. Carpet in both rooms, recently vacuumed and aromatic of a new home.

Past the backdoor and down a brick pathway; past the lounge chairs which circled around a bonfire, there was a fence. A brown fence which surrounded a lush and green backyard. Trees from the neighbors’ yards extended their shade over this home’s yard. And to the far right of the yard, there is a protracted dining table. Carved out of the trunk of a 100-year-old Oak. Its color a dull mahogany, the stools sculpted from the same wood.

And at the table, there was a family. In this dream, here I was. Sitting at one end of this long table. There were kids. Two specifically, running around the table in a fit of joy. The young prince playing with a caped crusader and the girl dancing in her crown and pink apparel. Meanwhile, in such dream I reach forward, taking hold of the silver spoon and serving myself of the meals which rested atop the table’s surface.

As I do, my eyes divert up and lock with Her. There you are. Sitting across from me at the other end, shooting me a beautiful smile. The prettiest of most. Those silver eyes and glistening white teeth. They stop me in my tracks as I can’t help but just smile back. And it was at this moment that I knew you were happy. That I knew, we had made it.

It’s usually at this time that the dream ends, and I snap back to reality. More often than I care to admit do I fall prey to this dream. Eating up my time and deluding my mind with thoughts of an impossible future.

I used to consider one day we’d tell the kids about the story of how their parents met. And you and I would assume our roles as storytellers and emphasize the hurdles we faced. How there were times of doubt, times of hurt and times of denial. And yet every time, I would stick out my chest in triumph and boast about how I eventually conquered the princess after years of effort. And you, would only just laugh. And the kids would do so too.

But now I realize that dream, may not ever happen. I fear such realization. I fear such a future where you must insist upon such rejection, and I must accept such a punishment. What so have I done to disprove my loyalty? Don’t you see princess, I am the man for you? Don’t you see I am the perfect fit for your necessities? Do you not see I remain the last piece to your still incomplete puzzle?

Can you not see the love I have for you? Oh, princess please don’t force me to let go. I must insist, be open. Open as you seem to want to be with your holy God, open as the prairies of the West are to the winds of Anemoi. Be open to the possibility of my love. Our love. Be open to the idea that perhaps you should just let go of that control you insist on keeping.

I implore you to reconsider.

Is there really no hope for us at all? How your latest words have lingered in the depths of my mind. I understand your reasons for leaving. Your reasons for doubt and your reasons for fear.

Am I not charming enough for you? Is my frame not enough for you? Has my mind not peaked at the wisdom and manhood you require?

Are my assurances of my love for you not enough nor what you desire? Princess, why can’t you see? I write this memorandum to you only to proclaim my love to you. To make one final effort to make amends. How I wish this reality wasn’t so. How I wish I could hear the words escape your lips. The three words we all long to hear.

I love you.

Oh how those words I yearn. But such a dream is merely a dream. How I can keep dreaming. Day and night, I can only hope. But I implore you princess, see that my love is true. See that I would lay down my life for you. See that I, would sacrifice the world, for you.

How our Church is different. Both different and same synchronously. Yet I would attend every rising of the sun on Sunday dawning, to your Church, I would. And readily I’d form a union with you under your Church.

Forever is a long time.

I know that now. For every time you voice those words, my heart cannot endure. And yet I still believe. How I believe, such faith so mighty, the compelling and dominant forces of such belief drive me like a fool to demise. But nonetheless, I believe.

You may not.

But I-

I believe.

I urge you to commemorate these words. Recall the man you may have once upon a time learned to love. Recall the man, you so diligently confessed, you may have begun to cherish.

Recall how I made you laugh.

Recall how I remained by your side in times of darkness.

Recall how I remained loyal when your Blood had forsaken you.

Recall my love for you.

Don’t you remember the times we used to laugh? The times we talked until the edges of night, until our eyes were hanging, and our spirits diminished in will? Until the night beseeched us to rest? The times we wrote stories together? Stories about men and women. About monsters and dragons. About the end of times and the power of young love.

Don’t you remember the names we had created for ourselves? The endless inside jokes we conceived, the times we bullied ourselves in a bundle of sarcasm. Oh, how I wish I could return us to simpler times. Times of joy. Times when we no longer were worrying about who loved who and who got rejected.

Can’t you remember the times I brought a smile to your face? Oh, how I cherish that smile. Can’t you remember the times I brought peace to your soul? Or simply the times when I was there by your lonesome side?

The times we laughed Together.

Together we cried.

Together we teased.

Together we complimented.

Together we hurt

And Together we apologized.

Together we hated.

Together we loved.

Together we did everything.

How I wish you could see, the friend I’ve been to you. Could you try to see the man I truly am? I am not the childish greenhorn you take me to be. Not a boy, but a man. Sincerely I tell you, distance is not an issue. I would move to you my princess in a day. I would love you until the end of my days.

But I cannot force love upon you. For love is a very sacred thing. But how I wish I could be the one. The one to hold you in my arms. How I wish I could be the one, to make you breakfast Easter morning, just to see the burnish alabaster of that ravishing and enchanting smile. How I wish I could be the one to stare down into those plated and alluring eyes; as I make sweet, gentle love to you, and whisper sweet nothings into the keen corners of your ear. How I wish I could be the caretaker of your body, the keeper of your home. How I wish I could bleed my hands, break my bones, and tear my body to serve you. To provide you with the dreams your heart desires. The dreams you long for. How I wish I could be the man for you. Time and again I could plead with you. See that my disposition to honor you is set in stone. Like the destiny written in the stars of Galilei.

I would tear the skin off my knuckles and grant them to bleed. All meanwhile the skin on my hands peels back and the callus on the trapezius of my palm were to rupture forcibly and ooze like Moses’s River of red. I would strain my eyes into a state of bloodshot, ache my shoulders and bust my knees in a hard day’s work. I would do this, and still be happy. I would gladly work myself into the grave if such sacrifice gave me the consolation of your happiness and well-being. For your dreams are my dreams. And your love, how I wish it were mine. But your happiness is the source to my bliss.

See I am not perfect. See that I am flawed. And the odds that are outside of my control, I will work to eradicate them from my personality. But search my words and insist to me that I am wrong. Look me in my eyes and tell me that it isn’t worth trying. Tell me that the odds at the roots of your skepticism are worth the lack of trying. Tell me that trying is worse than never having given it a chance at all.

I know my days are young. I know I am miles away. But search my words and search my heart. And tell me, what I say isn’t true. And if you can insist to me that I am wrong. If you can insist to me you’ve never felt a sliver of an ounce of affection toward me, if you can insist that I am nothing but a rock in your path, then by God cast me out. And I shall depart. Do not use our friendship as justification for never trying. For our friendship, is a small price to pay, in the hopes of the slight likelihood that I could indeed one day, hold you in my arms, in your most delicate state and ask you to be my wife.

And if my words have not phased you; if indeed your reasoning remains, tell me so. And I will leave. For if you cannot love me, nor let me in completely as your friend alone, then I have no rationale for staying.

But if you could fight against your doubts, if you can surpass such skepticism and see that love truly reaches beyond the regiments of superficiality, then tell me you love me and give me a chance.

I know in my heart, you cannot be so shallow. For you’ve trusted me with the deepest of secrets and the hardest of insecurities. So let me in. Let your heart hold fast and let your soul invite me within you. Open your heart and see, that I love you. And that we belong together.

For here I am, sitting under a large oak tree. In the yellow prairie grass, with shrubs of dead rosemary and conifers every twenty meters. The rolling hills in the distance and perhaps a half dried out lake over the valley.

And the large oak, the only left standing sapling. Here I am, witnessing the blowing of the cool breeze. This letter in my hand as I write my last words to you. Oh, how I wish you could see this view. Princess your home is with me. I tell you so, the setting of the sun, the chirping of the flock of birds which soar above me and the dancing of the grass to the breeze whose rustling creates a chorus of the angels, all in perfect orchestra. A calling to you. Be with me princess.

And the blue sky with scattered clouds. How the Lord must be beaming down on me. How defeated I am. But I truly want no other. I only want you. And here I reflect upon my life. I reflect upon the mistakes of my past.

Howbeit, I find myself at times at the edge of a dock. Clusters of soft sleet drifting down from the night skies. And there you are, and there I am. Embraced in the gentle cold. And I feel my numb hands, imploring me to never let go. To hold on to you for the rest of my days. See princess that every rising day, it is because of you, despite my imperfections and the odds outside of my control, that I fight to be a better man and the man that you want and deserve. See that it is because of you, that I am a better man. And everyday of my life, I will fight to be the man of your dreams. The man, you could love.

For I ask you to open your heart and see, I am the right one, only just at the wrong time. And truly I know, our love would never be the magical type. We both are not, magical people. But our love will be profound and all-powerful beyond most.

I do not ask you to rejoice and begin an affair with me this coming second. All I ask of you is to give this a chance and wait for me. To wait, until we are both ready, and to not cast me from your heart. To dig into your own beating heart and search any possible trace of love toward me. For your dreams are my own, and your glory is my glory. For I am your friend. And my love for you has been embedded into the salt of the Earth where homo-sapiens once slept, drawn into the stars that escorted sailors through the seas, and engraved into the steel of our great country’s foundation since the beginning of time. My love for you, has always been meant to be.

So here I am.

In the prairies of West Elizabeth, I remain. Gazing out upon the setting sun. With a choice in mind. An ultimatum that shall define my destiny.

So, in the end, how does one know hurt? How does one learn to let go and accept? Alas my dull and dense mind could never comprehend such concepts. All I however do fathom, is the power of love. And those things my heart covet for with sincere intentions. My electrifying desire to be your knight in shining armor. To be your protector and your equal. The desire to make you the happiest woman alive. The desire to simply hold you in my arms and promise you the world. For true love asks no questions, makes no reservations, but puts itself into the hands of the loved one. Such words from such luminary rings true in my head. And so, as my mission is made clear, I take my stand and the first step into the setting sun.

With only a single thought in mind.

How I love you. How I would give you the world, if only you saw, I am the man of your dreams…masquerading as your best friend.

Yours Truly,

S.