Dear Lauchlan/Laucha Flocks,
I’m mindblowingly, insanely into you. I am head over heels for you in a way that almost brings tears to my eyes because I can’t bring myself to say any of this to you and I’m forced to resort to writing anonymous letters on the internet. What a poor substitute.
I know that if you somehow saw this, you wouldn’t believe it possible. I’m such a sarcastic pain in the ass that just yesterday you told me you were surprised by how nice I am in person. I have told you in every way, shape, or form that I “don’t do feelings” and try to avoid connections with people because people can let you down and make you hurt more than anything else. I am an emotional recluse and we both know it. With all of this in mind, you have to know how serious I am to be putting “pen to paper” on this matter to begin with.
I don’t have a good answer for you as to how this happened or why things are suddenly different now than they were in the past. I’m the one who failed to answer texts or pick up phone calls, the one who bailed on plans hours before. I have given you every reason to believe I just don’t care that much, but I do. I need you to know how desperately I do.
I like you because there seems to be nothing I am capable of doing that will push you away. I like you because you make feeling things acceptable again. I like you because it literally takes nothing more than hearing from you to make everything better. I like you so much that I have to act like a completely sassy bitch to you all the time to avoid spilling all of this to you.
I don’t care that you’re an entire state from me and I should wait for you to move back to our hometown. I don’t care that you’re insanely busy trying to finish up. I don’t care that you technically have a chronic illness and that someday things may get bad again. I don’t care if I have to drive ten hours a weekend just to sit in silence and read books at the foot of your bed while you work. I don’t care if you have nothing to say in a day other than cute sleepy fillers and mumbles into a voicemail meant for me. I don’t care about anything but you, wanting you right now, wanting you for a long time to come.
I’m ready to get off electronics and to break my self-conscious silence. I’m ready to build that damn blanket fort. I’m ready to tell you you’re handsome because it’s true and I feel like it, as opposed to it fitting in the context of a story. I’m ready to give it my all with you and to show you I can be nice and loving to a fault, like I said it was. I’m ready to know your beautiful soul inside and out.
I just need to pray you see this. Or that someone you know sees this. Or just I get my courage up. Maybe someday.