Not mine, but beatiful nonetheless

I wrote this afternoon, and I wanted to share. Let me know what you think if you read this. (:

*****

As I sat next to you this afternoon, on that silly old couch with the squishy cushions and uncushioned back, I realized that I’m in love with you.

Of course, that sounds outrageous. I’m in love with you. Can I explain? I don’t want a romantic relationship with you. It’s just not enough to tell you that I love you. I love my family, I love my friends. But I’m in love with you.

We sat there, on that couch, all afternoon. It felt surreal. No, I didn’t get chills up my spine when you touched me – no, I’m not in love with you that way. But sitting there, I thought how strange the place felt. How familiar, yet strange. That’s when I figured it out. I was in love, in that mystic place where two hearts disappear to when they’re so in sync that they beat in time.

You had your music player, and we listened to a recording of you singing. I’m in love with your voice, you know. It’s sweet and pure and simple and beautiful. So precise, so perfect.

The tune was wistful enough. It made my heart ache. I stared out the window for a while, watching the bush with the pink flowers sway in the wind. It seemed mystic, to me. The papers fluttered under the laptop sitting on the table on the porch. Gray clouds curled playfully in the sky. Instead of rain, emotion seemed to pour down, charging the atmosphere, daring my heart to stand outside and see if it would melt.

A chessboard sat in front of me, its pieces replaced with mythological creatures. I watched them, learning their faces and shapes. The wizard’s hat twitched. I laughed. Of course the hat couldn’t move. But “of course’s” had no place here. The chair behind it sat empty, waiting, expectant. It didn’t look empty. Or maybe that was just because everything in the room seemed filled with emotion.

The song was over. We started listening to the soundtrack of your life. I smiled at you, but I couldn’t look at you for long. Every time your eyes met mine, a wave of emotion swept over me. I knew why. When I looked in your eyes, I glimpsed your heart. Oh, what a beautiful heart you have! I’m in love with your heart.

You handed me your journal, and I read your thoughts, your prayers, your rants. You let me peer into your soul. I read and devoured, knowing that I was hardly skimming the surface. The more I read, the less I knew, but the more I loved.

I glanced outside. The hammock swung gently in the breeze. Peace. Your eyes were growing weary, I could tell. I wanted you to fall asleep right there, right next to me, your head on my shoulder. Falling asleep is such a vulnerable thing, such an exercise of trust when it is so close to someone else. I wanted you to trust me that much.

I hope you trust me. I trust you. I have to. You have a strange way of saying nothing of any importance, but that nothing reaches deep down in my heart and gently prods it and pokes it, overturning it until you’ve exposed the deepest, darkest regions of my heart to the world. You see the things I don’t want exposed to anyone.

You’ve seen every part of my heart. How can I not give it to you then? You’re the one who sees me so completely. But there’s more to it than that. I want to protect you, I want to make you happy. I want to be in your life forever. Do you see? Do you see that more than an “I love you” is necessary? I’m in love with you. You’re so important to me. I hope you know that.
　
S. Dittmer