I remember that night very clearly. The unexpected text message, the rush of emotions, the psychotic phone call. 11:11. Waking up wondering if it was just a dream, living off hope instead of sleep, the conversation that marked a new beginning. Could it be? Eight months have passed us by. News flash: It is now, in fact, July 11th. You held what I prayed for, but I thought that (at least) February would steal your thunder. I thought the hope you brought would be fact long before now. I’m sorry, but this is becoming drawn out. The uncertainty causes questioning. Seriously, do I not fit the title? It is enough time to know, right? Right. I don’t want to see you come around again this year with me asking the same questions. I can’t allow that to happen. It’s time to take a step forward.
I know. I should be writing this to him, but you hold the date, twice over. I thought maybe it would make things less awkward to write to an abstract recipient.
P.S.- Tell him I’m waiting and growing impatient. In a nice, I-really-want-to-be-yours kind of way.