I knew all along that somehow, you will be here. You will find your way here and see I have been here waiting all along for you. Actually, I left the room, the comfort zone of my shy self that I was already used to just for you.
I wanted you to see me. I wanted you to know me. And I wanted you to look me in the eyes finally and agree with me that it is high time we met. You have always been there, wishing I show up somehow, and I have always been here wishing you would show up somehow too.
Funny, we were both there, lonely yet we wished we saw even if it wouldn’t last more than a flash-call. We were both there, busy yet we wished we met even if it wouldn’t last more than a phone conversation. But we were where we were, wishing and hoping we found ourselves without anyone making any steps to move out and take a look in the direction of the other.
I know there were times, I couldn’t stop peeping from my heart and wondering from the window of my mind where in the world you are all this time and what on earth has got you so occupied that you don’t beat for me as much as I beat for you, so I thought repeatedly. Where in the world are you that you haven’t come for me since?
I soon realize you must have wondered about me also, the perfect heart that truly understands you, the gleeful face that really draws out your smile, the extinct friend that could really be your better buddy, and the imagined fairy that holds the right tale and words to your taste and world. The writer that finally writes the very words that suits you, just you alone. Well, even if your wishes were only fantasies, at least you knew and wished for something different, someone new, from all you have come to know.
You were all the while searching for ME while I was all the while thinking of you.
I had pictured the moment of our first meet a billion times, how I will jump up and climb your face or how I will love to scold you first for taking this long to find me when I have been here waiting and wishing to be found by you. I had several images of you, several thoughts about you. But the one that stuck most was the simplest to carve and the hardest to get rid of. It was the image of you reading from me finally and the thought of you loving the thought of me in your heart persistently.
I kept thinking, the secret to every book is a writer, the secret to every writer is a reader, and the secret to every reader, well, is another reader I guess. You are not just my secret, you are also my whistle-blower.
I think of you so I could write for you.
Now that you found me, well, where shall we begin our romance. When shall we start our play or ploy or book or something that truly proves we found each other. I guess I would have to read from you to know for I am also the secret to your comments and likes whether you write about it or not.
Still thinking of you…