“Lately I’ve been thinking about who I want to love, and how I want to love, and why I want to love the way I want to love, and what I need to learn to love that way, and who I need to become to become the kind of love I want to be … and when I break it all down, when I whittle it into a single breath, it essentially comes out like this: Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.” —Andrea Gibson
My favourite letter, still not read:
If you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to mail it. So, good for me. You don’t know me very well, but if you get me started I have a tendency to go on and on about how hard the writing is for me. But this… this is the hardest thing I ever had to write. There is no easy way to say this, so I’ll just say it: I met someone. It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make. It was a perfect storm. She said one thing and I said another and the next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in the middle of that conversation. Now there is this feeling in my gut that she might be the one. She is completely nuts in a way that makes me smile highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required. She is you, Karen… that’s the good news. The bad news is that I don’t know how to be with you right now, and that scares the shit out of me. Because if I am not with you right now I have this feeling we will get lost out there. Its a big bad world full or twist and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment. The moment that could have changed everything. I don’t know whats going on with us and I can’t tell you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. But damn, you smell good, like home and you make excellent coffee that has to count for something, right? Call me!