|
Sunday, March 9, 2014 at 9:32 AM
Man of my life,
I didn't fancy a fairy tale beginning. Not even the childhood sweetheart kind of thing. It also didn't cross my mind to make up something out of the ordinary that people will gush "Wow, that actually happens in real life." To me, how we started in the web; with you barely knowing me at all, commenting about how much I cussed (which was a little awkward, but I didn't mind)... Was special in its own way.
Because not being able to be with you in the flesh right away made me yearn for you. A lot. We had a connection right at the very moment you told me, "Don't get me wrong, but I find your profanity very amusing." You were randomly popping out of nowhere, always ready for small talk. Your enthusiasm over my nonsensical rants and blabbers sparked more conversations. We talked endlessly, and we never ran out of things to talk about, didn't we? I might not have said this to you before, but right then and there, I knew... That was the magic of it. You just know, I just knew.
Later on, we eased into more serious, intellectual conversations. I was already attracted to you by then, I suppose... Being elated that I found someone who's on the same wavelength as I. You fitting into my life was seamless; it never felt forced. It was even the exact opposite.
Eventually, and inevitably, words weren't enough anymore. I longed to see you, to touch you, to get lost in your scent and everything that would make you feel more real. It gave me flutters, thinking about it for days on end.
That day finally came. The first time I saw you, it was that same feeling again, only intensified; I just knew. I knew you were made for me. One look at your eyes and I knew that I had to have you.
That's why, in the heart of it all, I'm thankful for whatever manner we met, because what truly matters to me is that we did.
Always,
Kat
|
“In most books, the I, or first person, is omitted; in this it will be retained; that, in respect to egotism, is the main difference. We commonly do not remember that it is, after all, always the first person that is speaking. I should not talk so much about myself if there were anybody else whom I knew as well. Unfortunately, I am confined to this theme by the narrowness of my experience. Moreover, I, on my side, require of every writer, first or last, a simple and sincere account of his own life, and not merely what he has heard of other men's lives; some such account as he would send to his kindred from a distant land; for if he has lived sincerely, it must have been in a distant land to me. Perhaps these pages are more particularly addressed to poor students. As for the rest of my readers, they will accept such portions as apply to them. I trust that none will stretch the seams in putting on the coat, for it may do good service to him whom it fits.”
Tagboard code here.