I read once that curiosity is love of the knowledge of causes. I want to know you and all of your causes. I want to know who raised you and who you consider family. I want to know of your childhood and your hometown. I want to know of the people and experiences that shaped your identity. I want to know of every memory that had a lasting impact. I want to know every element that played a part in creating the person in front of me.
I want to know what thoughts ponder that mind. I want to know what monsters keep you up at night. I want to know what you daydream of. I want to know the fabrication of your mind and its delicate entanglement of emotions and feelings.
I want to know your biggest fears and deep rooted insecurities. I want to know your childhood dreams and what became of them. I want to know of your current aspirations. I want to know if you are happy or not. I want to know if sadness creeps in. I want you to share it all with me.
But I can sense your hesitation. I can feel you retreating. You must be scared. This must be overwhelming. This must be a “bit much” for you. You have never come across this before. You’ve never had such undivided attention. You only knew of transient folks who scrapped your soul for what they needed and never once considered your needs.
Please don’t close off though. Please don’t harden and hide away from me. Please don’t refrain from something so promising. Please trust me. Please just let me in.
I understand how hard this is, how hard it must be to show such vulnerability. I know how you think that you will be helpless but you won’t. When did showing our humanity become synonymous to defeat? Being vulnerable does not equate to defeat. Being vulnerable is the hallmark of the brave. It’s an honor if you do decide to open yourself up to me. I won’t take this responsibility lightly. I understand the severity of it all and I will guard your truths till my last breath.
I want to know you in every detail imaginable. I want to take endless notes of the story that is you. I want an infinite collection, a never-ending library, all populated with your information. I want to know everything so when we are both long gone from this finite world, you and your narrative will still live on as the fucking legend I know you to be.