Dear Man With 5 Typewriters,


Dear MW5T,

As I get older I realize that there are some things I never speak my thoughts on. Conversations I am saving up, for a select few confidants. The rare ear I wait for that hasn’t shown up just yet. Thoughts that I instinctively realize are too much for most people.

I’ll know them by their eyes, these future friends. I’ve always known by looking, just which friends were meant to be that little bit more.

One can always use friends, so I never turn any away but, there are a few. A very special few. Whom I share my wounds with. Share my secret self. The ones who will mourn my passing one day, because my stories and theirs have intertwined. Those rare ones are the ones I wait for. Those few, are the ones these stories will matter to.

I sometimes worry about my fascination with you. I don’t want to be “that” person. One of those selfish ones who think they own someone simply because they admired them enough. My integrity keeps me in careful check. Admiration is not confirmation of anything. Affinity is one-sided and always should be in proper perspective.

Still, I feel like you would understand about saved conversations. The stored up insights and wisdom you mull over but do not share with just anyone. Those conversations are best kept silent until fate brings them about.

If fate means for it to happen it will. I just wanted to let you know, I have one such waiting for you. If fates means it to be, perhaps I will, one day, find myself greeting you, making room for a conversation that is finally due, and heal up wounds that are ready to close.

B💗

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