Hey there, City Mouse!

...This is the third time I've tried to draft this letter. That's not only because after a page or so my handwriting gives in to illegibility, but because I keep on thinking new things I want to say (of course my own inadequacy at simply saying things tends to be problematic, too.) Letters, I find, are scary things because they seem so final and committed -- Can't delete the last paragraph and reword it. There's no turning back - only starting over. And at times the words come out like bad teenage poetry. And that's an issue because it makes me realize that I'm just a bad teenage poet who hates starting over.

Thursday night I managed to rediscover my insomniatic groove... watched shitty late-nite tv and thought about you 'till I finally managed to fall asleep. I like to think that insomnia is the product of spending lonely nights in bed, without someone to hug and remind that everything's ok. Maybe that's me being silly and overemotional and a little bit lovesick, but that's the only answer that comes to mind when I ask myself why I can never sleep at home.

"How sweet. ...but why are you writing this letter?"

Well, I thanked your parents, but I never thanked you. Never properly, at least. Never for everything.

Thank you for inviting me to your city, into your house, into your life. Thank you for being you. Thank you for us.


Seeing you last week made me start to understand an awful lot of things... How incredibly lucky I am to have met you in a world filled with so many people. How fortunate I am to have found someone who makes me feel special. Someone who asks me to be their boyfriend forever. When I'm around you there are no pretenses -- I feel safe and I feel understood.

Remember that party, where that girl walked up to us and commented on "how incredibly happy we look together"? I've been thinking about that a lot.

You know something that kept me going last year? The way we parted ways after classes together. We'd say goodbye, smile awkwardly, and turn away.

We'd always glance back and smile again.


A few years ago, I thought I had fallen in love with someone. Only in the past few months have I started to understand what falling in love really feels like. Every time I'm with you, the world starts to make more sense. You answer my questions. You've made me start to discover myself. You make me stop worrying about the future.

What could be wrong with the future if the present is so damn good?

I think it's fairly obvious why this is my third try at writing this note. It's hard to translate emotion to words, especially when it feels as though you're still learning both languages involved. I know that after a few lines I sound like a smitten heartstruck who's bad at expressing himself.

But then maybe that's what I am.
Thank you for seeing past that.

Julia, I am truly, madly, deeply in love with you.

And I wouldn't say that if I didn't mean it.


Just thought you should know.

Yours,
Thom.