I'm still hung up on our last conversation. I've accepted the fact that love doesn't really make sense a long time ago; there's no science behind it, no rationale. I think I've tried it all; sheer pragmatism where one plus one must equal two, where everything is measured, precise, calculated to the last bit, but I've realized that I can't be a pragmatic lover. I've realized I'm not a romantic either (I can see you shaking your head in disapproval, we'll see eventually). I'm not quite sure which part of the scale I fit on. Now that I think of it, I don't really mind not knowing. I've been the classic cliche of waiting for love and you know it, but I think I've been going about it all wrong. I've tried waiting, chasing, not wanting, pretending to not want it, the whole bunch. It obviously hasn't worked, and a year ago that would have caused me a great deal of distress. Now I think of it with much more ease, and maybe I've learned that from her. Braver, a bit softer, and more open. That's what I'm trying to be for the time being, and it's partly why I'm writing to you at the moment. I'm letting go of any preconceived notion I've ever had of love, if it comes, I'll try to embrace it (we both know I have trouble with that), and if it doesn't, I'll still witness it everywhere around me, and embrace the beauty of it, and the absolute chaos. Write to me, I really enjoy our conversations. I hope love adorns you soon.
Yours always,
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