Dear Possibity

Things have been quite crazy and weird between you and I in the last year, more so in the last 6 months.

When our eyes met for the first time a year ago, it was as though a page had been ripped out of a movie script and personified itself into our moment. In a room that was full of people, yours were the first pair of eyes I met; and we held on to that moment with the understanding that that moment was so much better than the bullshit we were both dealing with in our separate lives. It was beautiful. Those few seconds of possibilities, were beautiful.

But I guess anything that resembles a promise of being different is worth the escape, when you're consistently bombarded with the not-so-in-your-head voices that tell you that most of who you are is not good enough for them. So in the days that followed our meeting, we drafted the blueprint of an escape route that only you and I understood...which lead to date number 1. There are so many possible outcomes that could've sprung from that afternoon. For one, I could've not pitched or not enjoyed myself; which would've lead to date-number-2-until-this-moment, not having happened.

I've questioned your presence in my life because at the moment, more of my parts are made of skepticism than they are made of faith. I'm hoping that this is a temporary malfunction, as even I don't recognize this glitch. I've loved that even amidst the questioning, the exclamations that've been cheering for you (few as they've been) have been annoyingly louder.

I guess I'm writing this to let you know that my interest in you has not waned. It's just that I can't reveal the events that lead to the break in transmission just yet. How you're still interested in me (even with all these unfortunate-looking mixed signals of late) is beyond me. I guess it just boils down to the promising possibilities that we mapped out in the moment our eyes locked for the first time; they're worthy of being explored.