Dear You

She has a note in her hand, she is checking to see if anyone is coming. The note reads,

Dear you,

I know this is terrible timing, but I didn’t want you to go through with this until you knew the truth, about everything. I know you don’t want to hear it, but it needs to be said, for my own sanity, however I have the feeling you already know what I’m going to say.

I love you.

There, it’s out in the open. Like I said, not the best timing, I know.

We tried to make it work in the past and decided that we would be better as friends, but I always knew there was something missing. I know now that, when you are with me, I am whole.

Tomorrow I will not be sitting in the pews while you say your vows because I would be compelled to stand up and object to your love. I dream sometimes of that objection, of you realizing that I am the one for you and coming down to embrace me. In my dream, we run off into the sunset together and never look back at the world we left behind.

I know this dream is false hope, but is dreaming of the impossible worse than living a life dulled to imagination? I think not.

My heart is burdened by your “love” but I know that, if it is what you want, I cannot stop you. I only wish to tell you the truth so that you can make an educated decision on the rest of your life. If you read this and decide that I am the one for you, I will be waiting for you on the corner where we met. I’ll wait until sundown and, if that comes to pass and I still haven’t seen you, I will understand that you will have made your choice.

Until then I give you my love and my hopes that you make the best decision for yourself.

Signed with all my love,

You Know Who

She leans over and pushes it under the doorway, immediately regretting the decision to embrace the truth. Nevertheless it’s too late now. All she can do is go to that bust street corner and wait in anticipation for him to decide. He knows it’s right too, at least she hopes he does.

So she goes to the corner where they met in hopeful anticipation, in pursuit of a dream deep down she knows will never take place. But still, ‘tis better to die with a dream than to live without a purpose. And the rest of the day and into the night her lips repeat in a sullen whisper, “’tis better to die with a dream, ‘tis better to die with a dream, ‘tis better to die . . .”


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