Its 7:13 a.m. I've been up for 65ish of the last 72 hours hours, the last 4 of which I've spent trying to sleep. I lay in bed as Brian Eno whispered from my speakers, the soft ámbiance attempting to lull my mind into an unconscious state. After all, I've got a big day today - at least by my standards. I did everything I could to get to sleep: slowing down my breathing, relaxing my facial muscles, arranging my two pillows so that one is beneath my head and one is beside me, and most of all trying not to think.
But I am thinking. I can't help but thinking. And I'm thinking of you.
I'm thinking of what I'll say to you, if and when we ever meet face to face again. I'm thinking of all the times before, when I tried to tell you my feelings and half succeeded. I'm thinking of the future, and how when you're marrying someone else, and the preacher says, "Speak now or forever hold your peace," I'll say nothing, because I'll have missed my earlier chances.
I'm thinking of the curves of your body, and how beautiful you look in the rain. I'm thinking of your eyes, and how there aren't metaphors to describe them. I'm thinking of your laugh, the short breathy one when your bite the corner of your lip, nervous and excited, as your eyes close and you nuzzle into my neck.
I'm thinking of the 4th of July - was it really three years ago? - lying on the hillside, lit by fireworks. I'm thinking of the 14 hour phone call, discussing love, and if it was really possible. I'm thinking of when you said goodbye, after I drove 2 hours to see you with a dozen roses, when you came home from camp, and how you're the only person who has ever made me cry.
The last year has been an interesting one, and I certainly haven't taken the beaten path. Meanwhile, you're off at one of the best schools in the world, all the way across the country (depending how you split it). I can't, and don't, expect a stable romantic relationship in this situation. But I can't let much more time go by without telling you I still feel this way. And I always will.
Two years ago, you said I'd get over you. There's plenty of girls out there. Well, I've been exposed to the world. I've crossed the globe (once) - I've tried forming relationships with other girls. There is only one girl on this earth for me.
I haven't told you "I love you" in over a year. But I do. And every time I try to tell you, I have to wait for that perfect moment. Because, for some reason, I'm convinced that if I tell you I love you in that perfect moment, you'll say you love me too - but if its not perfect, you won't.
Well, to hell with that. Trying to make everything perfect has done nothing for me. This moment may or may not be perfect, but I love you.
When I write music, it is all an expression of my feelings for you. When I go for a run, its so that, when you see me, you will be impressed by me. When I wrap my arm around my second pillow, I'm imagining you lying beside me.
When I see you next, I'll break my need to be perfect.
I love you.