ifyoushowmeyours

an open letter to the questions i wish i could ask:

dear nagging mysteries,

please stop reminding me that i am without clarity. yes, i wish i knew how he really was, how he may or may not feel, any and every detail he'd be willing to share. however, i need to sleep. i've never been so willing to employ patience, but i fear the time i spend providing space will be filled by those who may be able to offer something more appealing.

my inexplicable attachment is longing for validation and it is becoming ever more difficult to prevent my thoughts from jumping aboard the F train. in this cyber friendly age of wandering thoughts and hands, the hunger for a tangible reality and the dismissal of foreign advances is a hard one to kick.

please do not take this the wrong way, persistent questions, but i'd really rather you not show your faces until you are accompanied by answers.

i will look forward to seeing you...

sincerely,
me