Mohammad Abdul-karem Yousef
2021 / 7 / 23
Annabelle Marie Veronica
Translated by Mohammad Yousef
Every word you have ever said to me is worth more than a sultanís fortune to me. I could care less about gold and jewels. All I want, all I really need, is to remember you always.
I remember the day I first saw you. It was the summer. The golden sun was scorching on our backs and it was too hot to be a beautiful day. I remember I scanned the crowd of faces, searching for the best-looking one of them all- and how my eyes landed on you.
I never want to forget that moment. To this day I am sure that they are missing an angel in heaven. They must miss you. I know I would miss you.
Iíve stared at you so many times, for the sum total of so many days. And I will never tire of looking at you. Not now, not ever.
I remember last year, how I would position myself to be closer to you. Itís much harder to manage that this year. I miss you.
I remember it has always been hard for me to talk to you. Iím not the kind of girl who has ever had a problem talking to guys. Until you came along. Iíve always found it hard to talk to you. I donít know why. Every time I talked to you, I was afraid my heart would burst from my chestī-or-that I would faintī-or-both. I donít know why. You are one of the sweetest, nicest people I have ever met. I donít really talk to you at all anymore. I really miss talking to you. That last day of band camp is very dear in my memory. Do you remember? I hope you do.
I miss you. I really do.
Do you miss me? This question haunts my thoughts. I hope so much that the answer is yes.
I dream about you often. Do you ever dream about me? I hope that you do.
I remember my last dream about you. The sun was setting in shades of violet and orange and red, casting a beautiful palette of colors across the sky. We were there, you and I. We were dancing. I have always loved to dance and I pray that you do, too.ī-or-that you at least would for me. Then you held me in your arms and you kissed me.
Waking up in recent mornings has been slightly depressing because I want so much for those dreams to be real. At the same time, I am always glad I was given the gift of those dreams. I will never lose hope that one day they might be reality.
Every day, I stress about talking to you to the point that my friends are surely getting irritated even if they wonít say so. I havenít been able to bring myself to do it yet. But I will, and soon. And when I do, I have faith that you will want to talk to me. Because I believe in you. Because I love you.
And now, now Iím talking with my friends when I see you across the room. My heart pounds against my ribcage and I press and hand to my chest to contain it. Iím looking at you again. Youíre laughing. I love the way you laugh. You turn your head and, for just the briefest moment, our eyes meet. I canít help but get the feeling that you want to look at me. But maybe thatís just wishful thinking on my part.
You flip your hair and assume that model pose that you always do when you think that no one is looking. But I am. Iím looking and I love the way you look when you do that. I wish I could tell you so.
So this is me opening myself up to you, becoming more vulnerable than perhaps Iíve ever been. I wrote you this letter because I wanted to let you know how I feel. I wonder if you will ever read it. I hope that one day you will. I hope that one day I will be able to show it to you without fear of what you will think of me after youíve read it.
This letter is yours. It doesnít belong to me, not really. I wrote it for you. It is my heart.
I love many things about you. I love how hot I think you are, I love how nice youíve always been to me, I love that you make me laugh. I love the way you look when you and I love the way your hair curls around your face. I do. I really do.
I love you. I have for a long time. But you donít see me. You never have.
Someday, you will. I promise.
I love you.