This is a letter that I may or may not send to someone who's been in my thoughts off and on for so long. He doesn't know that I sometimes have feelings for him, nor do I believe it would be wise to clue him in. And yet I wonder...

I had a dream about him last night. He was an angsty filmmaker, tormented by his genius and misunderstood soul. None of these things are true in real life, but it felt so true in the dream. I felt so close to him. In the dream I disclosed my feelings (which had progressed to love at that point, because of his artistic tendencies), but only when I thought he wasn't listening. He heard, and felt the same way about me. Ah dreams. Here's the letter:

Dear friend,

It's been a while since I last wrote you. How is the world treating you? I've thought about you recently, wondering how your life is, who you are dating this time, and how long your hair is.

My life is a dream. I no longer feel to write poetry, because I live it, somehow. That doesn't make any sense at all, and anyway, it's not true. I'm still a writer, waiting for love to find me. And speaking of love, it's sure not to be found in the guys I've dated recently. How horrible is it that the more guys I date, the more I'm convinced that the guy for me isn't out there? Going on a date depresses me, and it should have the opposite effect. I was discussing this phenomenon with my roommates, and they brought up the point that I'm reserved around people I don't know, so naturally guys don't see my quirky personality right off. If they did see it, they'd probably run the other way, but as it is, I attract generic guys like flies. And the only remedy for that is a fly swatter. Yes, I am a cruel, heartless fly squisher. Actually, that's part of why I hate dating--rejecting all the poor guys who think we are a match made in heaven (and this is before they even know me). It must be based on my extreme good looks; I can't think what else it could be. Ha ha. I'm so vain. But really--upon what are these guys basing their interest in me, because it sure isn't a personality match.

I dreamed of you last night. You were a tortured artist, lost in your world of filmmaking, and it was I who comforted you when you cried. In the dream I was in love with you, and you with me. This is not the stuff of real life, but it certainly makes me think.

I wonder if now is the time to tell you that sometimes I have feelings for you. What would you say? Would it mean the demise of our friendship that I cherish? Would it be a lie, because my feelings only spring from the you I created in my head, and not the person I used to know? For now, these questions will remain unanswered, and I will return to my less poetic and dramatic self. It would be wiser for everyone if I did.

with all love,

X

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No, definitely won't send this one.

 

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