Jess. (badgurl1216) wrote in _letterstoyou_,

Dear You.

I've taken to wishing on stars again. Wishing for you. Wishing for tomorrow. Wishing I could find the words to describe how I feel. That's the problem with feelings. They're meant to be felt. Not described. Not talked about. Not compared to anything. They're just there. Sometimes they're open. Sometimes they're hidden. Mostly hidden, with me.

Maybe I should start wishing on airplanes instead. Their blinking lights have often been mistaken for stars, and what's so bad if it flies away? Maybe that plane is headed straight toward you. Maybe it will drop my wish off at your doorstop. Maybe then you'll know all of my secret wishes.

I don't stop at just wishing on stars. Oh no. I tell them much more than that. I tell them how I get that butterfly feeling in my tummy when we talk. I tell them how you hurt me sometimes but aren't really aware of it. I tell them how I act differently around you, because you're so much better than everyone else. I tell them how I wish I could be just like you, because you listen, and understand, and at least pretend to care, even if you really don't.

I wish I was content with life. Content with our relationship. Content with the fact we'll never be more than friends. Content knowing that I don't know anything.

Sometimes I go weeks without writing. Nothing inspires me anymore. I didn't have much inspiration to begin with. Sometimes it was a quote. Sometimes a song lyric. Sometimes it was something you didn't say. But now. I can't bring myself to sit down and concentrate on my writing. I can't concentrate on anything. Except you. Always you. Always the things you promise you're going to do, but never really pull through with. Always the conversations we have. Always the cuddles, and the kisses, and the way I never really meant to fall in love with you.

One more hour until I tell you how I feel. Two more days until I leave for good. Three words that mean everything.

The show's ready to start. The curtain is opening. The actor is speaking. Do you hear? Do you hear the words he's saying? He's speaking to you. Whispering in your ear. Telling you all of the words you've ever needed to hear. Wait. It's over. He's done. Do you feel it? Do you have goosebumps? I know I do. He's taking his final bow, and the curtain is closing. Time for a costume change. A face change. He's putting on one you'll never even recognize. He'll never break character. Never. He speaks just for you.
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