I care about you so much and I don’t even know you.
We’ve never met face to face, I’ve never heard your voice, never even seen a photo of you.
I know your first name. I know about the hard times you have had to go through. I’ve read your words.
There’s something about how you write and what you write about that resonates with my soul so deeply. I’ve been reading your articles online for months, and each time my feelings for you grow stronger.
It’s as if I am falling in love with a stranger.
The love I feel for you is perhaps like that of a mother’s love. I wish to look after you. I want to be there for you. I want to hold you. At the same time, I want to be your sister, your best friend, that one that you call at 3am because you need somebody to just listen to you, to embrace you with their comforting words. I suppose I just want the opportunity to be in your life.
As it happens, I’ve moved closer to you, because life has simply made me relocate. I can’t help but think that this could be my opportunity to actually meet you, maybe start that wonderful friendship I’ve already dreamt of.
I must be coming across as some crazy, obsessed and lonely person. Maybe I am that. Or maybe I just rarely find people that I think I could truly be friends with – those kinds of forever friends that you only read about in novels or see in movies. I wonder if you understand that problem too. I wonder if you have ever felt lonely for friends. I wonder if that feeling has made you feel inadequate too.
You are almost celebrity to me. When I found out that we share a favorite author in an email you sent, my heart grew. I couldn’t believe that somebody so creatively talented with such a deep soul could love the words of somebody I loved too. Even though that author is incredibly famous, and most women are a fan of hers, it still made me feel elated to share a connection like that with you.
When I imagine us meeting, I imagine hours of conversation. No small talk, just the sharing of experiences and feelings. Maybe even using each other’s shoulders to cry on. Sometimes we’re in a coffee shop, sometimes we’re in an apartment with a bottle or two of red wine. Either way, it’s magical, like an inspiring, heart-prodding montage of our friendship blossoming.
I don’t think you see me the same way. I’m just an internet acquaintance, which is probably all that I’ll ever be. Fear of rejection is keeping me at bay. Self-esteem issues are stopping me from reaching out to you, stopping me from asking whether you’d like to get to know me better too. Would somebody like you even find me interesting? I doubt it.
Still, I love you from afar, and daydream about our imaginary friendship.
I guess I just wanted you to know how I feel.