I have seen you so many times, but you never seem to notice me. I started and stopped this letter so many times, because I don’t even know who to send it to. I see your face in my dreams, and I swear I have heard you laugh when the wind blows. I know I sound crazy, it’s like loving a ghost. It’s not even love, is it? I don’t know you, but I want to. For months, I have felt you come closer to me, to my heart, only to pull away or run. I have tried to understand why someone so beautiful prefers tears to smiles.
I’ve been called crazy all of my life. I’m sure you have too. We’re not like most people. I’ve always said my life is like a shoe that is a size too small. I just don’t fit. You don’t either. That’s what makes you beautiful, not broken. I’m sure you like the boys that make you hurt, but you don’t have to carry it around forever. I know you have dreamed of me like I have dreamed of you. It kills me to watch you cover my face with the masks of the men who hurt you.
Stop looking backwards. Look forward. Look for me. I’ve been talking to you for months, and you plug your ears and listen to your ghosts. Find me, because I am searching for you. I love you, but I don’t even know you. We can change the world, we can make our dreams reality. I always dreamed of a woman in a long white dress walking towards me on a beach. I am grinning, and I know she is too, though I can hardly see her face. She keeps turning and walking away. Does this sound familiar?
Dream of the beach, dream of me, and come towards me. Stop letting your fear make you a runaway bride. There is no such thing as fiction or coincidence, and you are the only woman who seems to believe it as much as I do. I hear you crying out to me, even though you keep using the wrong name. I love you.
You asked me in a dream once if there was anyone who could be the balance – the perfect union of contrary – the man you could make music with – and I told you yes. You heard me, you sobbed. You woke up, and you knew we could make music. You got lost. I need your poetry to sing my songs. I need your words to paint my emotions. I need your heart to beat in time with mine. I played you every love song I could imagine, and you heard it. You believed someone else was the DJ of your heartbeat, because you don’t want to believe in a love that doesn’t hurt. You got confused and lost your way. You let yourself believe you are crazy, and I haven’t been able to find you since.
I felt something change though. I dreamed of a dove who gnawed through her prison bars, chewed through her broken wings to grow new ones to fly. As she kept gnawing, she changed to a hawk, and she soared. Ours could be a love that could scorch the earth, but never burn. I’d make you the phoenix who never again dies to transform.
You know this is all true, and you know the answers are never in your yesterdays. Is it really that crazy to believe your twin flame burns for you as much as you burn yourself? Is it crazy to send blank love notes into the abyss?