I know you exist.
Somewhere out in this mad city, or this crazy country or this beautifully ridiculous world, I know you exist. You have hopes that I’ve never heard, that I don’t know about yet, but these dreams paired with my wild ambitions will create our future. You have been walking on this planet, doing things and making things and being things that mean something to you. I know you are working that 9-6 (or 7 or 8) just like me, wondering when you’ll get where you’re going, even if you’re not sure where that is, exactly, just yet. I know you wake up every morning and you go to sleep every night, and in those hours, those minutes, those seconds in between, you make hundreds of decisions that have yet to lead you to me.
I know you are loved.
There is this family, these friends, these people that have the privilege to talk to you daily. These people have heard your laugh and felt your embrace, they know your voice when you speak and they have memories that go back to the decades I’ve never known you. There are people who think of you because you’ve actually spent time with them, there are women who have shared your heart and your hands, your bed and been stuck in your head. There are people who know your favorite dish, how you take your whiskey and what team you cheer for on Sundays and Mondays at the pub near your apartment, on some street in some place in some city. There are people who love you because you are already so wonderful.