Tuesday, 12 February 2013

80 - An Open Love Letter

To Whom It May Concern,

I may well be madly in love with you. It’s hard to tell. Suffice to say, the thought of you drives me up the wall and I’m sent almost out of control by the sight of you. Worse, the smell of your perfume, or that scent of whatever you happen to be wafting irresponsibly about, well, it’s made me crap myself with affection.

Thinking about you now, my insides feel like a cassette tape that’s being chewed up by the machine. The song playing on this tape is probably long and melancholy.

These innards of mine are being wound up tighter than is reasonable, and you are the only one who can press the stop button. Fortunately my batteries will die after a day or two of continuous play, so at some point I’ll be able to draw out the crumpled tape (which represents my interior life in this laboured analogy). I’ll smooth it out and respool it. It takes ages though and you need a pencil or something to fit in that cog-wheel thing.

I dream of taking you to faraway places and sharing sundry wonderful times. I wonder if you feel the same. You are undoubtedly beautiful; a lovely person in many respects. I half-kill myself for you, perhaps climbing dangerous cliff faces despite my fear of heights and lack of equipment. The fact that scaling any such cliff face achieves nothing is beside the point, our love is legitimised by such confusion.

Of course you’ve not had the chance to get to know me yet, but are you open to the idea? We could go promenading. Experience such a mixture of feelings that we need to throw up. At least we’d be throwing up together. We will each have someone to sit with on journeys and in the cinema.

Once we meet I will indeed treat you right. It could turn out that we differ on some issues, but that doesn’t matter. We’ll sort it out. 

Please tell me how you feel. I’m dying from impatience.

Deeply meant by,

Adam Clayton

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