Misunderstanding

This is by no means a romantic post, for simply I am not a romantic person. The red is surprisingly irritating on my canvas of black. Nor is the rose an appropriate flower. The blank sheet of paper tho.. was what I sought. An empty white scape, wordless and full of pen strokes without meanings.

Frankly, I am not fond of you, in that manner. Yet I am intrigued often by your actions and responses. I don't know you at all, and this post would not provide any insight on who I am writing to... or if they truly exist. Yet maybe you feel connected. Perhaps it relates to you...

I don't know if you even frequent this place anymore, however, I must thank you for introducing me to the serenity of this ungodly hour. A time where I have space to think, where fatigue doesn't reach me, and where I am slowly destroying myself from the inside. Yet it feels like the world is standing still as long as the sun hasn't risen yet.

... this odd loneliness and feverish sleeplessness. I dread the fatigue tomorrow.

I don't know what you think of me. Probably nothing more than a passing stranger, but you seem to be more. I am wakeful enough to know the mind is full of tricks. What I think of you is probably not the real thing, but a mirage of what I hope you are. But nonetheless, thank you for this enchanting ideal.

Sincerely.

Who could you be? Isn't this just another ephemeral misunderstanding?

=)