(if you’re not in the mood to read a mushy love letter, just skip this. Really. It’s pretty much just for one person)
Dear Dream,
You’re a person. More specifically, a girl. This is old news.
I probably will be embarrassed about this post tomorrow but because, even after this moment has passed, I will still want this to exist, I will not delete it.
You have a tumblr. If I follow you, I’m afraid it’ll disappear. So I don’t, and instead I type the url in daily to quietly say hello to this small piece of you.
You probably don’t care about this post. Hell, you could probably care the fuck less about me. However, I have been able, for a little while, to convince myself to automatically say “she totally digs you, man, she’s totally into you” when everything about the situation tells me “dude, you’re creating an elaborate plot so that you can exist without a psychological collapse.”
But still, even in this plot, there are things that make me believe in this crazy setup. To list things that would only make sense to you in the hypothetical situation you were reading this post: a drawn heart in orange pen, a purple mokawk, broken bones, “Twin Peaks,” “Taxi Driver.”
Not to mention every meaningful look given. Or did I just imagine those too?
Maybe it’s because you’re the most gorgeous person I know. Maybe we just have similar tastes in things and I just have a wide range of tastes that just so happens to coincide well enough to make myself believe “HEY LOOK WE’RE SOULMATES”
But I continue to believe you have the potential to love me too.
If you know who this is, and you can tell her about it (and I think that, just maybe, one person that I follow can do that) PLEASE give her my message. And if you CAN read this message, talk to me. Send me a facebook message that just says “sorry I’m taken. Don’t look to me for love.” Or “Hey let’s get together and have some coffee.”
Or a number. Real or from the rejection hotline. At this point, I could go with either.
I’m not loud and grand when it comes to this kind of thing. I’ve been taught the trade by the passive aggressive freaks of the small town. So I’m stuck with the passive ways.
Hey, I’m a silly little boy. So sue me.
-Jordan
