I Tried To Write You A Letter...

I started writing you this letter, you see. I probably shouldn't have because I don't know if it will ever truly be finished. I just have too much to say about you and to you. I started writing you a letter full of feelings and sweet nothings until I realised that we're so much more than just all of that - YOU are so much more than all of that.

I've mentioned that I love you in practically every line because there is nothing that will make me feel as though I've said it enough times. Every stroke upon each page is dark with the conviction that I have in my pure adoration and surrender to you. I tried writing a letter that would do you justice but I can't do that because nothing would ever be good enough... Just as I will never be good enough to deserve you.

I wrote you a letter and lost count of how many pages piled up beside me as I attempted to put into words what I was feeling in my heart and in my head. I feel as though there are not enough words or rather, there are no words that can capture the essence of who you are. The jumbled mess within my spirit that encompasses what I feel for you has never truly been put into words that I can confidently say reflect you. Every time I open my mouth or attempt to decipher my mind, all that comes out is "I love you."

I wrote a letter for you even though I know you'll never read all of it because you'll get bored or run out of hours in the day. I wrote you a letter so that, quite selfishly, I would feel better in having tried to somehow describe or quantify the beauty of your soul, the strength in your existence, the shivers I get at your gentle touch, the intelligence you so often try to downplay... I wrote a letter to you because I feel it's the only thing I could do that would fool me into thinking that I've begun to understand you.

It is highly probable that what I have attempted to write makes little to no sense at all. My letter to you is probably filled with mindless repetition and awful clichés perhaps from being to distracted by the thought of you to actually write anything down that would facilitate comprehension. In fact, perhaps it would be best if you didn't read my mindless ramblings and pathetic confessions.

I tried writing you a letter - or rather, I wrote you a letter but I'll never be satisfied enough with it to declare it to be complete nor worth the read. All that it has taught me is that sometimes words are not enough and the only adequacy one can find in the description of true and epic love is the moments in which that love grows. It can't be about what I say or what I write, it'll have to be in what I do. I will never be able to write you a letter that'll fully assure you of my affections for you but I can try every day to make it all the more clearer as a lifetime gently passes me by. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you see that your love is my lifeblood and that your complete beauty is the joy that I delight in every day. It won't be in my words any more - My love for you has surpassed my mere, meagre, mortal words... My love for you dances in my eyes and beats fiercely within my chest for you make me who I am.

I love you.

--J.

P.S. Even though my words will never be enough and despite my inadequacy, I'll never cease to write of all the wonders of your existence to the best of my ability...