Writing Letters To My Love

Letter Twelve

My Love,

I do this thing, this very odd thing. It's kind of like a habit. A strange habit though.

I have been doing it for the longest of times. I don't even always realise that I am doing it anymore. I imagine having a conversation with you. I imagine what I would tell you and then I imagine how your facial expressions would look. Funny enough; I never imagine what you would say back, it is always just me talking. I always have the conversation perfectly planned inside my head, preparing for the next time I'd get to talk to you and when I finally do get to talk to you, it never goes as planned. I know this is going to sound cheesy, but I guess you leave me speechless.

I imagine how I'd tell you how I fear I am changing and how I feel bad for being cruel to someone, even though said person deserves it. I imagine how I'd tell you about how I don't enjoy partying and messing around anymore. I imagine how I'd tell you about every small thing that happened in my day.

When something happens, good or bad, you are the first person I want to tell. I want to share everything with you, every moment. I want to, because I want you to be a part of everything that is me, I want your trace left behind in everything I say or do.

I guess I also want you to share every moment with me, I guess I also want to be the first person you want to tell about your day and everything that happened in it.

In a way I think that it is my way of acknowledging that I think about you all the time, in fact you never leave my mind.

There is just one wish I have.

I wish that you would give me the opportunity to make all of these conversations in my head verbal. I wish that you would want to hear about my every thought and everything that happened throughout my day.

Okay, technically that was two wishes; I had two wishes