It's kinda funny how maybe a couple weeks back I was just thinking to myself, I might never be as me as I was last year, at the age of twenty-seven. I did really like this variant of me. I felt old beyond my years, invincible in a philosophical way. I felt that the Box had not defeated me, or perhaps I understood that I would escape it. I also wished often that life would end and that helped me to live without fear, for better or worse. And so I was every bit me. Without that solemn reverence for life beyond the now, I lived as if I had all the answers, knew all the cards.
And yet here I am, with you. You know I can't believe in this life of mine that I would ever feel that another person was perfect for my love. And yet here you are. You know when you sat down next to me that day we met I just had this unplaceable, unmistakable intuition that you meant something to me. Now, I often wish somebody was watching you talk to me so I could have someone to marvel with. You're wonderful.
The funny thing is I think you came at the only possible time too.
In sha' Allah, In sha' Allah.
