It has been over a year since I began seeking the companionship of the fairer sex, and have since had the priviledge of sharing my time with some incredibly beautiful and inspiring women. Although I am pleased to say that all of my sessions were filled with smiles, laughter and respect, I regret to say that I never truly felt the passionate drive that used to keep me up late at night. At least, that is, until I met her.
The trillions of compliments I wish to bestow upon her head need not be spoken, as they are undoubtedly implied. What is pertinent however, is that with every visit I have become more and more enamored with this amazing woman. It wasn't long before I realized that I had fallen irreversibly in love with her. The unfortunate truth is that her private life holds no room for my own, an unspoken fact that is known from the very moment one pursues this, for lack of better word, "hobby".
But for some time now I have often found myself lying in bed, longing to tell her how much our time spent together has meant to me. I'd run looping, one-way conversations in my head, always searching for the right words, the right sentiments, the right way to express myself with the utmost respect. I'd exhaust myself seeking some form of catharsis, yet would never find it.
I know that if I were to ever tell her, there would be finality in our meeting, and I can't seem to part with her, even if it hurts me so deeply to stay. To find compassion with another was the reason I began, yet now I fear it will be the reason why I stop.
So this is my message, my final attempt at bottling my emotions. If you read this, know that I have and will always love you. I will never forget you, even though I hope that you will be happy and forget me.
The trillions of compliments I wish to bestow upon her head need not be spoken, as they are undoubtedly implied. What is pertinent however, is that with every visit I have become more and more enamored with this amazing woman. It wasn't long before I realized that I had fallen irreversibly in love with her. The unfortunate truth is that her private life holds no room for my own, an unspoken fact that is known from the very moment one pursues this, for lack of better word, "hobby".
But for some time now I have often found myself lying in bed, longing to tell her how much our time spent together has meant to me. I'd run looping, one-way conversations in my head, always searching for the right words, the right sentiments, the right way to express myself with the utmost respect. I'd exhaust myself seeking some form of catharsis, yet would never find it.
I know that if I were to ever tell her, there would be finality in our meeting, and I can't seem to part with her, even if it hurts me so deeply to stay. To find compassion with another was the reason I began, yet now I fear it will be the reason why I stop.
So this is my message, my final attempt at bottling my emotions. If you read this, know that I have and will always love you. I will never forget you, even though I hope that you will be happy and forget me.
