Valentime,
Beauty withheld from flourishing is a terrible waste — and you possess it in overspill.
It is strange that letters are out of fashion but words are not. They are the currency through which we love and lie. If in some way I cannot fully express the feeling that inspires this letter, forgive me: I might be bankrupt of the right words to bear the truth of the matter. Perhaps it is the muting power you wield over my restlessness. Perhaps it is the grace in your presence. Like the dawn parts twilight, you bring light to many a long, long night. I am alive to a trillion hopes and dreams.
We were promised a future of swirls and colors. Scriptwriters and anxious mothers wasted no effort in telling us that when we grow up, true love awaits at the end — a reward for the the goody-two-shoe, tight-belted young adults we (presumably) still are. The future arrived. Cruel. Blurry. Fast. Our promised freedom surrounds us and with it, some omitted truths. The race does not belong to the swift, nor the fight to the mighty. Cupid’s dirty playground looms at the peak of our powers and beauty. Ever so many chances to get it wrong; ever so few examples to admire. Tomorrow we swoon, the next day we point accusing fingers and play the quiet judge. All the roses and chocolate in the world cannot erase the fear and suspicion with which we see the people around us, doing their best to do right by us. We cannot out-spend it, we cannot out-trust it, we cannot escape it. Love remains an act of bravery, and we are scared, scared children.
For all the reasons why it could go wrong, I hope you remember that it can — as well — go right. Ships do not sink because of the water around them, they sink because of the water that gets inside them. You’ve been ‘shipped’ before, and doubtlessly, you will be again. You know dire straits, and you know hard storms. Yet you remain afloat. Your time in harbor might not be long. I hope that you are never too afraid to set sail. If ever you feel that you cannot afford to get it wrong, remember, to err is human. Humans make mistakes. You need not get everything right the first time, or the second and third: chances are that you will not.
I understand why you are not a believer in this fairytale. How could you possibly believe in love when all life has given you in return is pain? Yet this should not be your jail. Sometimes it is better to be trapped in a dream than bound in fear. The very best of us are hurt in the worst ways, too. To whom much is given, much can be taken. Be grateful for the things you do not know, for there is always more reasons to hold back. God (whoever you deem him to be) did not give you your gifts so you can bury them. If ever there is a friend whose life could be enriched by your wit and your presence, bless them. Beauty withheld from flourishing is a terrible waste — and you possess it in overspill.
Even with a trillion reasons to doubt love, I hope you never lose faith.
Believe.
