I have this feeling, which is love, which is mixed with so many things, which makes it difficult for me to speak sometimes, which is why I come here to write, because when I write, there is no stutter, and when you read, I believe you can hear me clearly.
(At least I hope so.)
That’s why I come here.
I come here because I struggle to be me. I have my things, which some would call imperfections.
Some would call them insecurity. Some would call what I have anxiety. Some would call it fear but I just call this me.
There are things I think about to help me escape myself. I think about places I’ve been to. I think about a laugh. I think about a silhouette and the wide-eyed stare of a beautiful girl’s fascination as she looks outward to enjoy the scenery.
I think of the places I have been to and try to combine the connection. And I like it this way; the connection to my dreams and the embodiment of my love.
I like the fact that I can unplug and use you here as my muse, as my vision, and as my version of hope of a life that goes on for happily ever after.
I think of the places where I had gone alone and wished there was someone around to share the moment with. I wished there was someone around of value; someone like you, because other than you, I cannot think of anyone else I want to share this with.
(My vision, that is)
I want to share these dreams and the places I’ve seen with you. I want to you to know it all, everything, absolutely.
Have you ever been to a place called Paradise?
I want to be there again, exactly as it was with the sunset the exact same way. I want the wind to be the way it was.
I want to feel the sun on my face the exact same way. I want everything to be the it was.
I want to be there again, exactly where I was and I want everything to take place exactly as I remember, which is perfect
I want to see the sun go down over a great city. I want to feel the nostalgia of my memory as it coincides with the present because I want to know that deep in my heart, things can always be “That” good.
I want this dream to be ongoing and unending, which is love, which is immeasurable and unmatchable, which is me when I close my eyes and see you, which is the dream I have from a day to be exactly as it was.
I want to watch the sun go down. I want to see the sunset dip into the palm of the horizon. I want to watch the sky as it celebrates the color of another day’s ending. And then I want to turn to you and have you next to me.
I want it this way. And you. I want you this way too.
Always there. Always with me.
See, there is and will always be the determination between us and fantasy. And what I mean is life is filled with imperfections.
But fantasy is perfect. And you, you are my fantasy.
There are no faults or fractures in fantasy. It never rains. And no one hurts and no one cries.
On the other hand, reality is much different, which is why I envision my dream this way (namely, you) because, in fairness, I am only a man, which makes me flawed.
In fairness, I am imperfect. I am scared. I am frightened of what you will see. I am frightened of what I might say or what I might show you, because, after all, if I am in love then I am in love, and to love you perfectly then I would have to first love you honestly, and to be honest, I am literally petrified of everything I show you because what if you don’t want me?
So therefore, I write
I want to be somewhere now. It is a place that I know of —or, more accurately, this is a place I have dreamed about for as long as I can remember.
The sun goes down and the sand from the desert is cooled by the soft orange glow of sunset.
There is no one around us. I suppose we are somewhere not too far away from the borders of Old Mexico.
Behind us is everything we had and in front of us is everything we ever wanted.
I want to go here with you. I want to feel the easy sensation of an evening breeze after the heat breaks. I want to feel the world subside to a slow and easy crawl.
I want the tension to vanish and the fear to be as though there was never such a thing.
More than anything, I want to put anything and everything out of my head so I can be with you without having anything and everything preventing me from being present.
If I am being honest—
Then let me be honest . . .
Let me be me and be unafraid to have you see everything about me. I want you to see me this way.
I want to be brave about this and run down the streets screaming like, “Hey, this is me and I don’t care who knows it.”
I want you to see me this way, exactly as I am without the need for any decoration.
Let me show you everything there is, and if you’ll have me, then you’ll have me because by then, you will know everything about me, flaws and all.
And if you’ll have me this way then I know you will love me this way, flaws and all, and I will never be scared or alone again.
I am this thing, which I have been building my entire life and waiting for the right moment to unveil it to the world.
I am these words which I pour on a page. I am this heart which beats with both love and pain because after all, life is both filled with love and pain, and painfully, I admit to the facts about my previous self.
I admit to who I used to be. I admit to everything. In fact, if I could be up on the rooftops right now, right here in the middle of Midtown, Manhattan, I would tell my secrets to the sky as loudly as I could.
This way I could get rid of them.
This way I would be wholesome again