Dear Stranger

I want to be special. I want to be the one for you. But after all these years of pushing and pulling, of beautiful words and ugly silence, I am beginning to understand that I will never be anything more than a secret.

And as much as I’d want us to be friends, I know that we can’t be. I don’t know why you feel a need to have me in your life at arm’s length. And I am afraid to ask because I am scared to lose the small piece of you that is mine. There is a closeness between us, and there is a space between us. How can we exist in this world made of opposites? This year, we have been very close, and I like that. But I also know that I am just a way to kill loneliness and boredom.

What I see as a connection is nothing for you. I want you to see that I am more. And I am trying with all my might, but you are pulling away as soon as it gets real. I could be perfect for you. Not because I need to bend and fit an illusion, but because I already am who you are looking for. You told me you were in love – it was not with me. It didn’t hurt, and it still doesn’t; I just wonder why you can’t love me. And I say all this while I think to myself that I am not in love with you either. I don’t know what this is. Infatuation? Adoration? Fantasy? Maybe it doesn’t need a label. I feel so lost without you. And I feel constant worry for you because I care.

I would never change who you are. I would support you – I already do, in every possible way. I would hold you through your lowest moments and help you soar through your highest instants. I would take care of you. I sound desperate. I know. It’s an awful trait. But when it comes to you, dear Stranger, nothing else matters. I cannot express why. It’s just a feeling I had from the beginning. We are not connected through love; this is something more profound. Something more meaningful. Twin-flame? Did we know each other in another life?

I want to be yours. I want to be on your mind the way you are in mine. I want to be in your art the way you sneak into mine.

I want you to know what I know. We are on the way to our sixth anniversary. Do you know that? Fucking hell… That’s longer than some marriages exist. And yet… You and me, we are nothing. We are strangers, nothing more. I will never be the one for you. I will never be special.

Something clicked profoundly

I feel abject loneliness without you

As long as there is cum in my balls and a mind in my brain, I will never forget you

You are marriage material, I mean that

You are perfect

I want you

All your sweet words… They never mattered, right? I am thinking myself down a spiral, and it will end in misery. I hate this. It could be so easy, but it is not. It never is.

What are we gonna do?


9 thoughts on “Dear Stranger

      1. I always love your writing, fiction or not, it always speaks to me. I don’t think it’s ever good to have a stranger like that. You lose too much of yourself.

        Liked by 1 person

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