TO THE BOY WHO IS ON HIS WAY
To the boy who is on his way,
How are you? Actually, where are you?
The more you get stuck on your way, I am going to start believing this worlds idea of love.
When I was six years old, I believed that you were coming on a horse. When I was twelve, you had nice hair and played the guitar. When I was twenty, you were really smart and charmed me with your intelligence.
Right now, I don’t really know how you look or who you are because I don’t care what the world wants me to expect of you. I just want to write our messy imperfect story.
Are you busy holding another girls hand and wondering if you will spend the rest of your life with her?
Break her heart and come find me. However, remember to break her heart gently because I may not believe in soul mates, but I do believe that good people still exist.
Or if you get your heart broken right before you find me, I promise to do my best.
They say it with brimming nostalgia that you can love only once while your heart is still full.
That is okay.
I will have places that remind me of things that could have been and you will have lines from every other song that reminds you of her.
When you come to me, I will not expect you to be like a fresh journal that I picked off a store. I will accept you as a book that already has a few chapters. I trust us to be imaginative enough to write the rest of our lives the way we want it to be.
Let us not be the couple that treats each day as a milestone with color coordinated clothes and a ten year plan. Let us love imperfectly because that is the only way you can truly love someone.
Never “complete” me.
That word makes it seem like an ending. I don’t fancy harmony as much as living every single day with a sense of bitter-sweet anxiety that most people do not appreciate.
“Challenge” me instead.
Read poetry to me and tell me which lines I should like the most. Tell me why our child should take cricket lessons when he/she could read a book that could change their life instead. Make me understand what makes your heart beat fast.
We don’t have to “agree to disagree”.
We can disagree every single day with unmatched passion that seems to ask “How can the person I love the most not feel the same way about this?”
That is how we will grow and learn that we are like the mismatched patches of purple and yellow sewn together to make a beautiful patchwork blanket.
Let us not fill our house with just beautiful things. We will find space for an ugly clock, a broken chair and a quirky old couch that serves no purpose.
That way, we will know that even the most beautiful things are not perfect and that small spots of ugly do not change the fact that “Home is Home”.
A few years later when we discover something about each other that we really don’t like, we can look at that clock and smile a little.
I would say that I can’t wait to grow old with you, but honestly, I simply can’t wait to grow with you. I want you to strip me naked in ways more than one so that you can know me better than anyone else and then fall in love and hate with my bare soul.
I want you to slowly enter my world and then become the center of it, so much so that I remember my memories through your words. Be the candle that lights up my universe.
But, where are you?
Am I missing you in the list of suggested friends that Facebook throws up?
Are you hiding behind photographs that I casually flip through?
Are you crossing my life in insignificant moments that will go on to be the story of what changed my life?
Are you there at all?
To the boy who is on his way,
I know you are wondering why I haven’t found you yet.
I promise that when we find each other, the story of how we almost got lost would make all of this worthwhile.