i’ve been so far removed from love when i read about it it’s clinical, like a scientist, or a historian discovering the past. it feels foreign to me, alien, part of a culture unlike me. this of course is stupid; i am a human being just like you, with the same parts and feelings and drives. i need food and water and shelter, and love. but i have distanced myself from it so as to not feel hurt. i have chosen over the band-aid rip of rejection, the slow smoldering decay of loneliness. why have i accepted this? because when i stand here with you, alone with you, i feel a welling up in my breast the likes of which i haven’t felt for ages. i feel what i must reluctantly call love. the moment i saw you and your bright beaming smile, your kind, honest eyes, your thick dark tangles of hair draped across the sides of your face, i fell in love. seems so foreign in our society, this “head-over-heels” kind of love, and yet here it is, and i am only here to tell you that, to let you know that i would give all of my life for one moment spent with you. that scares the shit out of me, but it’s true. i’m not one of those romantic spaniard types who keeps reams of poems in journals to give to his love. i can only tell you now and hope that you feel some semblance of the same feeling for me. so i am here, heart on my sleeve, ready for your answer, whatever it may be.