Dear Stranger

I had six missed calls today. They say if a man don’t want to talk to you, he will not call. You called and sent messages, and even a selfie. I have been waiting for a selfie for a long while. You look tired but so handsome. You know that I don’t love you for your looks. I love you for your mind and soul. Six times you tried to reach me, and once I told you that I couldn’t take your call. You tried again and again. I stayed headstrong; you did too. We are weird together apart. And I wish that I could just come over and hug you. But, that cannot happen. You’ve changed, though. A lot.

Two years ago, I lay on my back in a field at night on a warm August night. I wished upon many stars for you to love me that night. That year, nothing happened. Nothing at all. The year after that, you started being there at the end of the year. The first half has been challenging for you, I learned since. My heart broke for you when I heard what you had to go through – mostly alone. And this year, out of the blue, really, I became marriage material. You said you love me. You said you trust me. And while I believe you, I am weary. Weary, because I know you. I know you all too well. And I am trying not to hurt you, because you are a fragile mind. And I worry so much about you. So so much. I am afraid that you become dependent on me and my presence, and that’s when I fear that I am not good enough, and I want to retreat. But I will not. I will be strong for both of us.

We deserve each other. I think we do. But Stranger, what are we doing? We are wasting time, and we are wasting our lives. Will we ever be more than voices on the phone? Words on a screen?

I love you, Stranger, and I will take your calls tomorrow. I promise. I want to be there for you. I’m doing my best to be there for you.

Yours, Sweetie.

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