Dear Someone,

I am attempting to write to you of the pretty little lights that dance in the night to the enchanting melody that I hear in my mind while a deafening silence fills this dimly lit room. I am awkwardly asking for your attention, though I know that it may not be granted; not fully; not in its entirety; not yet. Despite that, I am still asking you for a sliver; A thin slice of your precious time.

The seasons are changing, I wonder if you've noticed... Or have you fallen into the trap of your own little world where you notice nothing except your own heavy breathing? Our lives as it seems have been playing on fast forward and slow motion at the same time. And going too slow or too fast would exhaust anyone, I would imagine...

Does it hurt? Your pain would hurt me, you know, I hope you understand. I would ask you how much it hurts, but you would never admit how affected you are by the circumstances that surround you. And yet, I know that this is hurting you, because it is hurting me.

Do you feel a void? That was rhetorical... And of course you wouldn't answer that. However, you and I both know that you do feel it. In fact, I'm certain that the void is imperatively larger than you thought it would be.

I am romanticizing this a little too much, I know... But why shouldn't I? It is meant to be overly romanticized. Otherwise, what else would we be waiting for? I am just about as impatient as you are. And understanding the fact that this is a process helps, in that I get to be a little more optimistic and poetic about it.

I'm finding my way... How are you coming along? I wish you would just follow my voice and trust it to bring you to where I am right now. Right this second. As I wait for you in this dimly lit room where I'm writing to you about the pretty little lights that dance in the night. Waiting for you to realize that I am not giving up... I'm waiting for you. Listen to the music and follow the stars.

I love you. My heart is yours to take. Make haste.


As Always,
D.