I don’t know if you're ever even going to read this. Hell, I don’t even know your name yet, or what you look like, or if we may have even already crossed paths. Nevertheless, writing this article still feels just as intimate to me as if I had known it all.

I’ve always considered myself to be a hopeless romantic first, a writer second, and a human third. So now that I have a platform to combine the first two and pen this letter to you, nothing, including the possibility of you never seeing this, is going to stop me from writing it.

For as long as I can remember, you’re all I’ve ever really wanted. I could never wrap my head around someone being so desperate to get a girl they barely know in bed that they would lie and cheat and steal to do it. I couldn’t ever comprehend spending months upon months of time and energy to save up for a pricey new car that functions just as well as the old one, but looks a bit nicer. I’ve never even been able to understand the desire to light up with friends, or get so drunk at a party that you wake up the next morning with silly pictures on your phone that you don’t remember taking.

The only thing that has ever made sense to me is you.

All I’ve ever aspired to be is loved by you, and to love you in return. Everything else may be nice, but I could live without it all easily. You, on the other hand, are just as important to me as any basic human need.

No one really knows this, but I’ve written poems about you since about the seventh grade.

My official policy is that I don’t believe in happy endings in my writing, but I’ve always had a soft spot for you.

I’ve written what our life will be like together, what it will be like to wake up next to you every single morning and feel perfectly at peace with you in my arms, and what kind of mischievous antics we will get into together as we walk smiling, hand in hand through the streets. Very few of these sacred writings have ever met the eyes of anyone but myself, but I’ll let you read them all one day without any hesitation if it’s what you want.

I can see our future so perfectly in my head, it’s like my own personal paradise.

For now, you’re just a silhouette in my mind, waiting to be filled in. Occasionally, in my best dreams you appear as someone I feel I’ve known forever, but don’t recognize and can never remember the specific characteristics of when I wake up.

Almost everything I do, I do for you and for that future. Furthering my education and career so that one day I can help provide for us, taking care of my health so that I can spend as much time with you as possible, and devoting my life and my free time thus far to desperately trying to find you.

I so often wonder if you are waiting for me too, if you sit and listen to the same sad love songs that I do and long to meet me.

Do you lay awake staring at the ceiling and thinking of the same future together that I do? Do we dream together, never remembering the gentle curvature of each other’s lips when we wake? Do you wish you could replace the pillows under your arm and in the empty space in your bed with me? Or are you blissfully unaware of the euphoria of being together that we are both missing out on every second we’re apart?

I can’t wait to ask you all of this one day and finally be able to put over twenty years of wondering to rest. Until then, I’ll get back to looking for you. With any luck, I’ll see you very very soon, my dear.