For as simple, cool, and collected as your words come across, you make me want to try harder.
Your rejection, time after time, proves only to make me stronger.
“Thank you” is simply inadequate to express what role you’ve stepped into.
“Inadvertent mentor” may approach. “Life line in the dark cold” is nearer, but oh so melodramatic. “A lighthouse in the storm” might be close. One I can’t always see for the deadly shore.
But still, I sail on. Even when the wind comes at me wrong. My sails start luffing, my little boat jibes too soon, and I get turned around. Even then, I come on. Drawing ever nearer to the promise of land.
I wonder if you even know?
I think you must. But what if you don’t? Is it possible that this is one-sided, this feeling?
Yes, of course. It always is. Exclusively, this obsessive insanity is a fulfillment of my own need. Expression of a desire I’ve composed. A grasping at my own fragile, glass-like hope.
The way my heart takes you is my secret, and I’m not spilling.