To My True Love

I feel you. I don’t even know your name yet but I feel you. I can feel your caress- gentle despite your callous hands (are they callous? Maybe not), and loving. And I can feel your lips against mine. Your kiss is very similar to your caress- gentle and loving, too. I am your world, and you are mine. I can feel all your love in everything you do for me and I try to make it the same for you. And even on days when we don’t have the time to feel the spark, we are still each other’s best friends in the whole wide world.
You have blue eyes, I think. Or maybe it’s hazel or brown. I think they’re blue, though, because I’m a sucker for blue eyes.
I don’t know if you’re considered hot, or if I saw you at this very moment, I would consider you hot. What I do know is that when I meet you, and when the time comes that we are together, I will think of you as hot. No, more than hot I bet. I will think of you as beautiful. And you, I hope, will think the same of me, even if I’m not sure I entirely think I am myself.
I do know that if I met you now I would think of you as beautiful on the inside, at least if I saw you now. I have to think of you as beautiful there now, unless my guy tastes change by the time I meet you. You are kind, and a gentleman. Maybe prone to a few blunders, but you admit to your mistakes and pay the consequences for them. I’m really sorry if I don’t by then. I’ll try to be.
I think you’re like me, somewhat- a misfit, maybe even a nerd, somewhere inside of you. I think you’re a nerd, an English nerd, because I have always imagined my true love to be an English nerd. Someone who I could talk to about Shakespeare or poetry or big words, and would actually comprehend what I was talking about But maybe you're not... maybe you're a punk rocker or a music lover or just a cute little dork who makes me laugh.
If you turn out not to be a geek or a nerd or a misfit, that's okay. Maybe you're just some guy who has a brain and found my individuality cool/hot/interesting. Maybe you're even funny( which I'm not really betting on finding in a nerd), and you lighten me up when I get too serious, and make me unravel with your jokes. Or maybe you just have an honesty and bravery that I admire.
And when you were trying to tell me that you loved me for the first time, or you wanted to ask me to marry you or you wanted to make me the best birthday present I ever had, you wrote me a poem or sang me a song. I don't know if it was horrible, or if you wrote it or not, but I don't think I'll care. The fact that you were trying so hard to make me love you(even though I already do) and make me happy( though I already am) is enough for me.
It doesn't matter what exactly you are as long I love you and you love me, and we're happy. It doesn't matter who you are as long as you love me for who I am, and don't try to change me.
I believe in your existence. I believe in your existence and I hope I meet you one day, because I know that some people never do meet their true loves. I hope I recognize you and give you a chance, because I know some girls are attracted to jerks but not to guys who's been there for them all along. I hope that when I recognize you I won't let you slip through in my fingers because I was too afraid, to be found decades later or another life or maybe never.
I'm naive. I haven't even kissed a boy yet, instead of a mirror, or fell in love, instead of bask in hormones. But I know, or least I force myself to believe, that true love exists. That you exist out there, somewhere in this world.
I hope I find you, and love you, and have a life with you. I hope I find you, and maybe, just maybe, show you this paper and make you laugh about the daydreamer middle school geek girl who wrote this paper and ended up falling in love with you.
But for now, that girl is hoping and dreaming about you and waiting for you, writing down her journey in the process.





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