I was going through some of my old journals and this entry made me smile and helped
me realize that I really am with the right person now... I believed you were there.
June 14th, 2oo2
You,
We haven't met yet but I am anxious to meet you right now.
I have been listening to this song over and over again and it makes
me feel like I know you. And I hope that I meet you someday. I feel
like I am very close to discovery who you are. Very close, but now must
not be the time. I am feeling like I am in love... which is ridiculous to feel
this way, especially from listening to this dumb song but...
You.
Who are you? Why do you feel so close right now? Do you live close
to me? Have you wondered about me too? Why is it taking so long? I feel
like the boys that I am surrounded with just aren't enough for me. I feel
that I have very little connection to them even though I wish to fit in.
I wish I didn't analize so much. I don't even see you on the horizon, but
one day, there you will be, no questions need answering. Forever will loom
in front of us... Why did my mother groom me into a hopeless Jane Austin
reading romantic?
Even then, I wish to believe that you are there and these feelings are real
even though I cannot physically see you.
Some days, weeks, and years will past by me with these feelings at the bottom
of it. Chills are going through my arms and torso and the biggest, stupidest
smile is now growing on my face as I write this.
Because...
I am still a 14 yr old girl, waiting to spend forever with that boy. The one
who says impossible things that I believe... That I am pretty... That I am
the one you want... That I am the one that makes you a better you...
I believe in you. I believe you are there.
It can't be true... and I'll never meet you... or maybe my mind is getting the
best of me and my imagination is way out of proportion and I must stop
all of this foolish writing and thoughts.
Even then, I miss you, even though I have not memorized your face yet. I
am anxious to be with you, even though I have not been in your arms yet.
I love you, even though I have not spoken your name out loud.
I know that I will not show this to anyone but myself. I am embarrassed
but overwhelmed that you must be real. You must be out there. Or is the
artist in me dreaming up of an unreal person painted into this world.
A surreal reality?
Please forgive my imperfect expression of words.
Sincerely,
Meredith Rae Dunnington
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