I shouldn’t start a love letter with an apology, but I think you’ll come to find it sincere. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the first person to kiss you, the first time someone kissed my lips I understood that to love is to be in pain– but my sister had to explain that love shouldn’t hurt, it should be painless. The light breeze while you’re outside exploring the city during spring kind of feeling. I’m sorry that I couldn’t be the first person to hold you, the first person to hold my hands said that I shouldn’t regret anything or anyone because in this moment? This very second… you wanted it with every part of your being. It doesn’t matter in the end, the only thing that matters is the journey. The road that led you to me will ultimately lead you back to yourself. I’m sorry that I won’t be the first person to make you feel love. The ocean is a heart and I’ve been building a sandcastle that’s tall enough to seek you out. I’m sorry that I won’t be the one you’ll show off to your mother. I’m sorry that you’ll think about me when sleep is close to impossible. Valentine’s Day no longer holds value to me. I’ve been doing some thinking lately about who I am as a writer and what it means to say I love you. To love someone enough to let them go. To love someone enough to tell them to grow without you. To love someone enough that you’re willing to explain the reasons as to why it won’t work just yet. To love yourself enough to come to terms with it. One day someone’s going to treat you better than I ever will. One day someone’s going to ask you to marry him. One day someone’s going to have your smile. One day someone’s going to leave you love letters near the kitchen sink. One day someone’s going to pretend to spoon feed you during dinner and pull you in for a kiss. One day someone’s going to write poems for you and mean it when he says I want you to be mine forever. One day someone’s going to be right beside you. He’ll be right there. By your side, as the sun hits your curtains and you’re struggling to get out of bed– he’ll swing those curtains open and jump scare you. He’s going to sing for you while you’re in the shower. He’ll hold you while you’re having nightmares. He’ll reason with you intellectually if you’re ever in a dispute about art and poetry. He’ll walk you down that aisle and never think twice. He won’t do drugs and he’ll be healthy. He won’t smoke cigarettes and he won’t be perfect, but my god, he’ll make you forget about me. You’re stubborn and hard headed, you’re just like me. You’re smart and colorful down to the bristles of your soul. As an artist and a writer, we are compelled to chase after a love story fitting to declare war upon ourselves. You’re going to paint his life like how I’ve done for you. He’s going to squeeze your palms and ask for a dance. He’s going to hold your hips and ask for a walk. The moon will be out and you’ll enjoy your night. Love screams from a multidimensional place– I’ve seen seen love crash and burn. I’ve seen love destroy and rebuild. I’ve seen love light enough to blind us from ever seeing the truth. I’ve seen a love that’s frightening. I’ve seen terror within the night– you’re only sober if it feels right. I’ve seen who I am and I’m still lost. Some words cost us an eternity of apologies. Some feelings never leave us, even if the people do. You’re more than what I can ask for, you’re more than you know. We’ve been down this road before. Some day we’ll forget about who we are today, some day we’ll change forever. Some day you’ll understand the why, some day you’ll find the who, some day he’ll bring you to the where, some day he’ll show you what’s in his heart, and you’ll realize about the how. I’m still searching for myself– I’m falling deeper into a sea that isn’t designed for swimming. I’m stuck in a place that only has room for one person. Do you ever feel like there’s something wrong with the way that we are? Something’s always missing in the daily routine, there’s something broken inside of my head. Love letters sprinkled with heartfelt laughter– I wish I could give you that. I only want the best for you even if that person isn’t me.
Dan hated him. He officially hated Phil Lester, seriously.
Apparently he hadn’t been lying when he had said he would see Dan next Sunday. Because, in fact, it was Sunday, and there he was. Across the church, staring at him like he wanted to eat him.
Dan fidgeted in his seat on the wooden bench, glancing at him and quickly looking away. He could feel himself sweating, and he was fairly certain his hands were shaking. He sat on them.
He didn’t know much about why Phil even attended their church; he was clearly the opposite of religious; but he knew it had something to do with his probation. He had heard he had spent some time in juvie, but that had to be a rumor. Right…?
He glanced at him again, and instantly regretted it. Phil was still looking at him, his eyes flashing, a smirk tugging at his lips. He knew what he was doing, he knew exactly how he was fucking driving Dan crazy. And all just by looking at him.