It was in the middle of June when we met, the second Sunday I believe. I remember that afternoon very well. I doubt that I'll ever forget it. Now, you're probably wondering what on Earth I'm talking about. It was the day I first saw you. I'll never forget it.
I didn't speak to you, honestly I couldn't manage to get the sounds out of my mouth, my tongue twisted and I lacked the knowledge of what to say to you. I always get nervous around you, ever since that summer afternoon we met.
Well, I guess we didn't really meet each other it was more of an I saw you and you had no idea I existed. Maybe it was better that way. That way I wouldn't be a suspect when it happened. Oh, when what happens, you ask?
When you received this letter in closed in a bright red envelope. Your name and address typed out on the label. Writing is trackable. If I type, my handwriting can not be tract. You'll never know who I am, or why I have been so fascinated with you.
It's simple really, I was bored. I had nothing better to do than go down to that park on the corner of Seventh and Birch Street. I used to go there and swing for hours, but on this afternoon I arrived quietly, my headphones in and my favorite song turned on.
I looked up and I saw you. My eyes widened and I stepped back. I'd never seen you before. I didn't know if you were new here or maybe I'd spent so long averting eye contact with every human I came in contact with.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean for things to escalate like this. That evening was amazing, I sat and I watched you for a few hours while you sat in a swing. Were you waiting for someone? You looked impatient.
I know you never expected this, so I'll try to keep it brief, more or less. Not every story can fit into a few paragraphs. I know that ours can't. Not after all that we've been through together.
You see, I never did speak to you. I had rehearsed again and again what I would say to you but I could never spit the words out. People are funny that way. So much to say, but not enough words to say it.
Our encounters, when they did happen were very brief. I never made eye contact with you. Not once. I was afraid of looking at you, because I was afraid you could see who I really I am. The eyes are the windows to the soul they say.
