To Whom It May Concern:
Hello. You don’t know me. You probably never will. But I know you. Well, I think I know you. I don’t actually know your name, but If I’m lucky I will one day. Or maybe not. Maybe you’re something I’m not supposed to have. You see, I’ve been watching you from afar. Everyday I watch you sit in a corner. Every evening I see you order your drink. What are you thinking? How are you feeling? What are your plans? These are some of the questions I want to ask you. But I never do.
I sit in silence, contemplating the different conversations we’d have. We’d disagree on politics, have common interest in food. You would be shocked I enjoy sports, and I’d be in awe that you admire Jane Austen’s hidden messages in all of her books.
You’d want to travel, as much as I do. I would want to discover the meaning of life; You would want to help me.
You could tell me to get lost; You could laugh in my face. Whatever the outcome I’ll never know. If this letter reaches you, I just wanted you to know that you are wanted,
God, you were desired,
And you were something I rewarded myself with frequently.
A Lover Of You.