Dear Future Lover

Dear future lover, should you ever stumble across this,

Humans tend to take solace in the simple things. Our affliction with sunsets, the moon, and slow rocking waves are some of my favourite examples. As humans, being as complicated as we are, this tendency to allow opposites to attract can explain this phenomenon pretty well. We spend day in, day out, working for a goal that as far as we know is impossible to reach, giving 110% of ourselves towards a dream that is just that, a dream. We need that outlet, that excuse to pull ourselves away from what consistently feels two steps away, and these relatively simple, completely natural outlets allow us to take a second and breathe.

I’ve sought safety in my sunsets and moons for a long time now, but the reality is I’ve done it alone, relatively unsatisfied. I want to let you into my brain, allow you to feel the safety I do. I want to be your sunset, your moon, your slow rocking waves that carry you on a sea of empty thoughts and unimportant tomorrows. I want to learn to live in the moment with you, breaking those chains of persistent planning to a fine dust and saying to hell with schedules. I want to be with someone who’s hand in mine feels like an extension of my own arm into their body, someone who I can share my deepest regrets and largest laughs with.

Maybe this is why I’ve been told I love too much. Too hard. Too deeply. Maybe it’s years of handing out my love like candy, trying to please everyone’s sweet tooth. Maybe it’s the exploitation of my love into a grotesque bastardization of what I intended it to be. Maybe it’s the thought that, deep down, I’ve set my own bar too high and have to constantly reach to hit it.

But, with you? I feel like I have no bars to reach. You’ve taught me in your relatively short presence in my life that love is a game, not a goal. We’re all players in a constant pursuit of a love that we only ever read about in places like what you’re reading here. You’ve taught me to laugh at the indiscretions, brush off the past and to live in my own moment, my own tranquility. You’ve shown me that love isn’t some monumental feat that I need to experience a convoluted executive dysfunction over for months at a time. We may not have a lot to offer each other in materials, possessions, but we’re wise far beyond our collective years and to me, that’s better than any possession.

I’ll apologize in advance for loving you too deeply, because I know what it’s like to be emotionally strangled by another person. Please don’t interpret it as this if you can; I speak a different love language at times, but I promise it’s all in good faith. I’ll apologize for not being perfect, or close to it; I’ll apologize for not being a better listener, empath, friend or mentor. These traits are innate, and as much as I wish to kick them to the curb alongside my past I acknowledge that they are me and I am them, and we’re designed to coexist as a cohesive unit that makes the proverbial fingerprint of me. I can promise that, alongside these traits, I’ll be the most enthusiastic puzzle you’ve ever had to attempt to comprehend.

Maybe I can’t cook a 5-star meal, but I’ll laugh with you over some quiet music while we make grilled cheese at 3 in the morning. Maybe I can’t afford to give you the nicest gifts, but I’ll always find time to cuddle up and watch your favourite movie. Maybe I can’t reasonably give you the world, but I’ll love you as if I had it in my possession anyways. We’re built with our own quirks that make us special; these are mine, and you have yours, and I wouldn’t want anything more than those silly little traits we share.

All I ask is that you’re here to let me take your hand, lend you a jacket on a cold night, offer my shoulder when life goes sideways. All I ask is that I have you to share my sunsets, moons and slow rocking waves with when I need that outlet, that break from life.

And who knows? We may be a stage in each other’s long lifetimes. In the meantime, let’s rewrite the record books as a motivator that sometimes a stage isn’t all that bad. That collective knowledge, those years of wisdom we impart upon each other during that time, that’s more valuable than anything else.

One can dream though, I suppose. Unlike my sunsets, moons and slow rocking waves, I acknowledge that love isn’t natural.