You told me you it wouldn’t hurt,
As if you only existed
i. I hope you like puzzles. Did you play them as a child? I wish you had, so your knobs won’t have to adjust. Or if you never did, it’s okay. I think everyday is sufficient enough to learn. Everyday is a puzzle with me. I hope I do not become responsible for the burden of your frustrations or your frowns. I hope I never hear you sigh with the dread of the world. I hope you solve me everyday.
ii. I hope Scrabble doesn’t bore you. I hope you like words. I hope you feel the need to beat me in this game. I hope you will challenge me. In fact, I hope you defeat me. I hope my eyes never see you settle for ten points, I hope to see you thrive. Tell me that you care. Tell me that you love me in words that score twice as much as mine.
iii. I hope you don’t think of this as a chore. But I can be a mess. Literally, figuratively, actually. You can do two things: you can clean up after me, or you can be a mess with me. I’m not sure which one I like better during that day, because I’m moody; I hope you know me enough to know what to do when things get bad.
iv. I hope you read every single word. I hope you didn’t skip to the end. If we will be together, I will be ranting. More than you would like me to and more than what I think is healthy. But I would like you to listen, even if I’m not making sense, even if I become boring, and most especially if I’m making a fool out of myself.
v. I hope you’re not a fictional character. I hope you’re real and alive and breathing. You may be with someone else now. But time will come. In God’s perfect time.
Most days, I want to be the snow.
the deeper the night becomes,