You were in my dream last night, but I couldn’t see your face. I loved you, and I was happy. We were cleaning out a garage. Your garage, I knew that at least, and you let me put my car inside. I commented that I never got a garage spot at home, and you just squeezed my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. I knew you loved me, and I was happy.
Have we met yet? I would hope that I would know you from the second we first said hello. But in all likelihood, I’ve pushed the thought away and refused to hope. Maybe we’re already friends, and I’ve even had a crush on you. In that case, I’ve run through every possible way you could break my heart and have given up on pursuing you.
If we haven’t met, there’s something you should know about me: I’m scared. I’m terrified that some people are just meant to be alone, and that I’m one of them. That love is something I won’t get, and I have to figure the world out on my own. So be gentle. I know you may get mad at me, but I’ll be madder at myself. I’ll read into every glance, every disgruntled noise you make and sideways glance until I’ve convinced myself you don’t want me anymore.
Maybe we’ve met but you had someone else. And you were in love, and that even though you’re who I’m meant to love, you’re meant to love someone else. And maybe we’ll never meet. We’ll go on with our lives and our paths will never cross, and the only place I’ll get to see you is in my dreams. How stupid does that sound?
In any case, I want you to know that I love you, I miss you, and I can’t wait to meet you.