The Love Project

I hate love. Love stinks, but I crave it. Like an addiction. Like my mother. You asked me last night what did I crave. And that’s what it is. Love. Passion. Lust. Not just the sexual act, I mean that is part of it, but the whole act itself. For so long I supressed that craving. Going with the safe bet. Its a foolish craving and you the realist I could never imagine could understand that part of me. I am falling for you. I will never tell you that. And in the off chance that you do read this well then I guess it was meant to be.

I know this is a serious long shot but this is my last resort. 18 years ago you attended a birthday party of a family friend in Jamaica, Queens. It was my birthday. You sent a letter over with your little sister to give me. From the time I saw you, I had to say yes to you. We dated for a little while, we had so much fun together. I know you may be married now but I just want an opportunity to take you out to dinner and just look at your beautiful face again. I don’t want anything more, just to look at you and talk with you, I want to see that smile that used to make me melt. You would not believe how often you popped into my mind these past 18 years, I truly miss you. Your initials were F.A. mine are S.K. Please if you read this, email me.