For You

I’m writing this for you.  I need you to understand that I’m writing this for you and you only. Everyone else who reads it may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the novel you’ve been looking for, this is the sign you’ve searched for. You were meant to read these words.

I need you to hold a bell. A bell, a windchime, a rattle, anything. I need you to shake your hand because you’re thinking of me so hard. I need you to sound that bell over the rooftops of your being, over all that cannot be heard. Then I need you to give the bell to me. I need that bell, to ring it each time I think of you. But I will not ring it. I will just hold it in damp thought, in raw emotion. I will hold it and be reminded of the times you thought of me. And I will try to feel like you are still thinking of me to.

You have not stumbled upon this. I have written this for you. I need you to hold a mirror. I need you to look in it and think of all the things you wanted to be. I need you to remember that you still have time to be the things you wanted to be. I need you to capture splinters of light in that mirror. And then I need you to give that mirror to me. I need that mirror, to encompass some of myself in it, too. But I will not do it. I will keep it in a chestnut drawer. I will look and it and hold it, after 20 years, and think of all the things you wanted to be. And I will remember you. And you will be all the things you wanted to be.

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