Letters I've written
Never meaning to send.
Beauty I'd always missed
With these eyes before
Just what the truth is -
I can't say any more.
The music of the Moody Blues casts haunting harmonies about the room
as I put down the paper.
Of all the songs that the DJ had to pick from, this one is chosen. And here I am, writing a letter to an image - little more than a name. I know the words will sit on the paper, and it is unlikely that they will ever be much more than that. Another page that becomes buried away in notebooks that contain the occasional musing.
There is something that feels so much more real about something that is on paper than stored in the magnetic fluctuations of a film atop an aluminum core - or whatever hard disks are made of. The pen and ink leave a mark on paper - something permanent and lasting.
Dear (to be filled in later),
I don't know why I am writing this - beyond the fact that it just needs
to be written somewhere.
Is it possible to fall in love with a person you don't know? Unfortunately, I know the answer to that all too well - it is yes. It has happened more times than I care to remember. Each time taking a bit more from me, and hurting a bit less. I fear the time it doesn't hurt at all. And yet, here I am making that mistake again - grasping at a straw and hoping that it... will be something more than just another hope and dream.
...
It is far too easy to delete a memo from a Palm Pilot, or a file from a disk. Memories and dreams don't go as easily. Maybe, that is why paper feels better - it takes an act to remove it, be that act a violet rip, a slow tear or a puff of smoke from an open flame. Or sometimes, they just sit there to be found again years later and you think back to what it was that made you write it in the first
place.
Gazing at people,
Some hand in hand.
Just what I'm going through
They can't understand.
Some try to tell me
Thoughts they cannot defend.
Just what you want to be,
You'll be in the end.
Whatever the case... tonight, these words are being written down
while thinking of you - an image with a vague name.
How long will you haunt me,
and will it hurt any less when you don't?
And I love you,
Yes I love you,
Oh how I love you,
Oh how I love you.