Title: I love you. Written: March 6th, 2026. Iv.
There’s so many places to go and places to see; am I greedy for wanting to experience it all? Vast expanses of greenery: trees, flowers. Towers of iron and wondrous products of human invention and imagination, building up into the sky and toward the stars, toward the heavens. Festivals. Traditions. Rituals.
Perhaps my most human desire is to see everything this grand world has to offer. Between what the heavens created for us and what man has created with it, all of it is beautiful. Look at how far man has come since the original sin, since being exiled from the paradise of Eden. I may not be particularly religious, nor will I play preacher, I do still believe; I attribute this to the beauty of the wide, vast world. It may not be perfect, but no work of art ever truly is, and that’s what makes it worth such praise, such appreciation. Perfection does not exist, for there is no standard for it, and it is within that one can find the beauty of existence.
Though there are those who seemingly only strive to soil the artistic beauty and value of life, of the world, I still maintain a strong hope and belief in the idea humanity will prevail. History will not look upon them favorably.
One of my most sincere dreams is to live in a big city, to walk places, to see people walking around me, each and every single one experiencing their own version of life. With this desire, I additionally wish to fall in love: be it with the city, with the people, with the culture, or with you. Is it selfish of me to crave the idea of someone loving me the same way I love the world? To see my flaws and still find it in their heart to be fond of me despite any frustration that may develop?
If I will love you, I already love you, and I will love you forevermore, even in my own death. I may not know your name yet, and I very well may not even know your face, but I do love you. We may not ever meet, though I greatly hope we do, for I would be delighted to know you. Your language, your culture, your places, your traditions, your foods, your history, your dreams, and most of all, what you love. Whether you are a person or a place, my desire will remain, however unrealistic it may be to know everyone: dead, alive, or those who have yet to be or to not be.
You are a wonderful work of art — layers and layers of colors placed upon each other, both a continuation of past works and a new, innovative, unique piece all on your own, with each of your experiences and preferences and dreams being its own stroke upon the canvas that makes up who you are. Please allow me to admire you, to gaze upon the vast expanse of canvas, even if I may not ever be able to see every layer or detail. I wish to be a stroke on your canvas, to be a lovely addition upon what makes you, you: please give me the opportunity to do so, even if only for a short moment in time.
