I thought it was a sign – a divine sign – that you were meant for me and I for you. I printed out your picture and put it on my vision board, filling the last blank space. A representation of my heart’s deepest desires. You. A stranger. Yet so familiar.
Then we spoke. No, I’m not the MI6. Why didn’t you laugh at my jokes? Why did you shrug me off? Why did others find you to be so rude?
I struggle to use that as a blockade. My desire to be with the idea of you is stronger than my desire to believe that you are what you sounded like you are. A jerk.
I hold onto her words: you have a big heart. I make excuses in my head…I’m a stranger. You’re probably scared. She’s just a random girl who called you up. Who looked you up, found you and stalked you. Actually now that I think about it, I get it. It’s quite strange. Yet behind that strangeness, at the other side of the screen, on the other side of the phone….is me. A nice person. A hopeless romantic whose heart desires nothing more than an illusion of you to pour her love into. The love that I have that overflows from me, with no chalice to fill.
And there you are.
The embodiment of everything I think I want.
The picture that fills the blank space.
The chalice that my love seeks.
I live in hope.
