I dreamed of writing. Not just about you, but "YOU", the entirety of being you, and the innocence and not-so of our love. I wanted to find words, to read, to treasure; those that I can relate to you, to us (and us being us), to our "imperfectly-perfectly-us-and-ours" version of love. I was sure no one in the world can ever write it so perfectly. Telling memories, of love, of romance, and of dreary moments. Even candid, unnecessary, small talks and sharing. Until this.
I honestly think the hardest to write are inspirational sort of books. When it goes far beyond "you are beautiful" and "you are worth it". When it is more than "dictionary-worthy" kind of words. More than bringing someone into an emotional state. The feeling while under Mitch Albom's spell, it is so close to magical, it inspires you to be better, to write, and to celebrate life and death. To live knowing both exists in each other, death in life, and life in death. And to live more than success, more than finding love, more than our society, and more than existence.
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