This could be a love letter. Or it could just be a writing exercise. Whichever you want it to be. Either is fine with me. I don’t love you, of course, not in the love-letter sense of the word. But I do feel that you are a love-letter-worthy person. I hope you find the contents of this letter entertaining, flattering, and light-hearted, and most of all, I hope it helps you pass the time during your day.
It’s been a strange position that I’ve been in, and from what I hope I may assume, you’ve been in as well. I’ve certainly been dodgy and fairly lackadaisical in my communications with you. I want to assure you it’s not because I’m at all ambivalent towards the thought of you – quite the opposite – it has more to do with prudence, experience, and a fair bit of dread.
Prudence, because in all honesty, I don’t expect to clash with you like the wakes of two boats; first as a spray of dazzling violence, a second surge, then a gradual consolidation. Experience, because such a clash has never happened to me, at least without a satisfactory result, and I expect it never will. Dread, because the thought of clashing with you terrifies me to the very core, and I can’t help but think of all the terrible damage that could be wrought if we were to upset each other’s still waters.
Would it be good? Would it be worth it? Each time I see your feline smile, I’m tempted – to broach a subject, any subject; to give into wild abandon; to jump clear of the mast to which I’ve nailed all my rules, wisdom, and caveats, and into the sea.
But for now, I’ll sit in the crow’s nest and watch. Mayhaps I’ll watch you sail clear over the horizon. It will have been worth it. Knowing there’s someone like you out there in the same sea as I has done much to alleviate my burden of pessimism and hermitage.
But mayhaps, and I hope it just may hap, that you’ll keep sailing alongside in a parallel course, and one day our wakes will hearken to an appointed hour unknown to you or I, and swell with purpose, and crest towards each other like mad leviathans, and as an effluence of countless drops of the sea burst skyward and glitter in the sunlight, those wakes will rise against each other in force and foam and formidable felicity, and cause every shore on earth to tremble.
Of course things of that nature only happen in stories. And love letters. Which this may or may not be. I have only the most realistic expectations of everything. And while I sometimes allow myself to dare imagine, those imaginations do not blind me to the fact that you are very happy right in the course you’re on, and the wind is full and heavy in your sails. My own tack fares quite fairly as well, and I count myself fortunate for the current to carry me close enough to such an admirable vessel as yourself.
I certainly hope this letter does not alter our professional or platonic relationship, but if it does, it was a risk I understood full well before I sent it. I hope you take it with as many grains of salt that lie suspended in a handful of seawater. I hope it finds you well, and if it is not too much, I further hope it serves to brighten, enlighten, and inspire.
Yours truly, ——