Dear Love

September 28, 2012
By NohaBooyan BRONZE, New York, New York
NohaBooyan BRONZE, New York, New York
4 articles 3 photos 27 comments

Dear love,
With you, I want to be myself.
With you, I want to take midnight strolls by the beach in my pajamas. I want to slurp down Ice Slushies under the summer sun and laugh at things that aren't even funny. I want to go and sit on one of those Central Park benches, like in the movies, and order caramelized apples. I want to go to Connecticut and go to the park by the beach I went to during the Fifa Worldcup last summer, I want to hold your arm and walk down the deck to the sandy shore. I want to dig my toes deep in the mud under the scorching heat. I want to try out all these cheesy dialogues on you and hear that outburst of laughter in response. I want to see you smile when I spill coffee all over myself and act like I didn't do it on purpose. With you, I want to run around Manhattan streets, amidst hundreds of busy locals, and watch their faces go blank. I want to grab an express train downtown and draw on roads with a chalk. I want to make a bed out of yellow leaves and dive in, in fall. I want to hear you read me a book to sleep. I want to go to Canada and surprise you on your birthday, arrange a cake and a few balloons in the back of a minivan. I want to bake that cake. I want to cuddle in and just watch late-night movies during cold nights. I want to wear your over-sized shirt and take pictures and hang them up, black and white, on walls. Yes, judging by how obsessed I am with cameras, you should have known this was coming. I want to make a snowman and design snow angels in the soft cotton-y snow, I want to exhale in wintry mornings and watch a tiny cloud escape my lips. I want to go to Venice and have everything with the violins and the boats and lunches and dinners. A white bedspread on a green field, under a moonlit sky. A white gate with white and pink flowers, green leaves playing peek-a-boo. Or maybe, sitting on the front bumper of a car and watching the sun rise over a hill top. With you, I want to go on rides and play games at a small town carnival. I want to crash Indian weddings. I want to race your car and maybe, even watch you win, but don't worry I'll make you feel bad about it and console me instead. With you, I would fancy paintball fights or maybe just painting rooms. I want to have breakfast in bed and not go to work on a Monday. With you, I want to spend an entire day in Barnes & Noble, one with a Starbucks. I don't know why but I do. I want to dance to retarded Indian songs and head-bang to metal. I want to sing out loud with you. With you, I want to cook dinner and bake cookies. I want to wash cars, paint pictures and go places. Heck, I wouldn't mind a bonfire or even just a tent in our backyard with the rest of our family. With you, I want to raise kids and grow old.
With you, I want to get married and be happy.
And honestly, I see all those things happening.

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