D,
Hi,
Let me begin this by saying: Believe me, I've been meaning to write about you.
And believe me when I say this, my love, will all truth and honesty,
I've been meaning to write about you... about me... about us...
I've been meaning to describe...
how your eyes turn to stars every time you greeted anyone,
how your voice is like the sweet chirp of the birds in the sky,
how your smile is my rainbow to a dark, gloomy day.
I've been meaning to write about...
the butterflies I feel each and every time,
the loss of words I have each time you are in front,
the way you make me want to check myself on every mirror in the road.
*riiiip* *riiiiiip* *riiiiip*
Hey,
remember when I told you how passionate I am of writing?
That I would gladly spend my whole life just writing and writing and writing?
But my love, the writer in me is failing.
My words are not enough to explain...
how grateful I am for you,
how much happier I have become because of you,
how scared I am of losing you,
how afraid I am that I am not a girl worthy of you.
The writer in me is failing. I have only mustered the courage now to write these things about you. But still, words won't suffice enough.
Maybe, I don't want to, rather, I choose not to write about you because I wouldn't want you to be immortalized in an inspiration that is fleeting.
Because you are not that.
You are not a one-day inspiration.
You cannot be immortalized in words, because words won't give you the proper justice.
So forgive me, my love.
I don't want to write about you like the way I wrote about...
the guy that I thought of to be my first love,
the guy who was my first love,
the friend turned lover who broke my heart.
Because I would rather choose to write to you...
about the most ordinary days,
about how bad a day or week has been for me,
about my new dreams, goals, and trips I want to make,
about the way my heart breaks for every dream shattered.
Because you are that guy for me.
You are the inspiration, not a spur-of-the-moment idea.
You are not a memory that I would want to be caged in ink of words, because I want you to be with me in that memory.
So forgive me, my love, if these are the only words I can write to you:
I choose you, everyday. I love you.
C.
