To the boy that remembered me,
I know that this will probably never work and that there will never be a "right" time for you and I. What else is a romance though? Then to love someone when there is no chance of that love ever thriving. So, can we have our little romance? Just for a summer at least?
When we'll lay there just you and I counting the cloud shapes in our summer skies. For those moments where the world will stop spinning just to pause and look at us. We'll have all sorts of adventures. We won't have to worry what the world thinks - because they won't matter. In a few short months we'll just start over. Playing a game of limbo between some past life and some future ambition.
I've found myself in your eyes and every day I hope that you can see yourself in mine. This is just a dream though, just a lovely little romance where I keep hoping, can you see that I like you?
It's amazing how I've known you for years and I still get butterflies in my stomach. I always pause to take little snapshots of the moments we have together. The more I'm around you the more I realize, we'd be imperfect together - but that would create perfection.
I don't think that they'll ever be a "right" time for me to tell you any of this. And really, it's not that I am afraid of telling you, I'm afraid that you won't say it back. Then I'll have to stop dreaming and laughing and loving you, and that just won't do.
So maybe I'm afraid to jump, because I'm to afraid to fall and not have you there to catch me as you have been for so long. All of this might seem cliche, but I guess what I'm trying to say is this: I like you.
It's hard to think that I'll never get the chance to say this.
So I want to say it, even if you'll never see.
With much love,
--But this is just another autobiography, examining the prosopography of me.
By: Emma Marie.