Elysium

Dear you,
I’ve been waiting for you to come along for so much time that sometimes I start to doubt you even exist. But something inside my heart, deep in my gut, tells me that you are some where, waiting and hoping as much as I am. So if you ever see this, I want you to know that I miss you, although I haven’t met you yet. And I cannot wait to share with you so many long conversations at 2 a.m. and so many french vanilla coffee cups. And that whoever you are, even if you love books as much as I do or not, or if your fingers play with the strings of a guitar at the thought of who I will be or with your hair as you look up at your bedroom ceiling, I will think that you are the most extraordinary human being I’ve ever met. I don’t know if you have soft brown hair, or black as night curls, or deep blue sky eyes or eatable lips, but I already feel that you are beautiful in every single humanly possible way. I hope you are a morning person, because mornings are my second favorite part of the day. And I hope you like listening to me talking, because I will tell you everything of what book I’m reading then. And I hope you like when the sky turns pink and grey, and the sound of cars passing by as we stare down the city, because I want to share with you all of me. And those small details, like singing in the shower and laughing at my stupid jokes, are me. And I hope I meet you soon, on a cafe or a library or on the street randomly. I hope you love me for everything I am, the flaws and the stars. Because, believe me, when I find you, I will love you. I will always, truly, completely love you. I already do.