Dear You,

I am inexplicably fixated by you. I am morbidly fascinated with you. I am gruesomely tempted by you. As expected, I'm also furious with you. Thinking about you makes me angry and afraid but also fills me with a sense of closure. 

I keep imagining your embrace. I think of going into your arms with my eyes closed and never opening them again. You are light and warmth and untroubled peace.

But I've seen what happens when people touch you. Or you touch them. I'm furious at you for touching the people I love and taking them away from me. Sometimes I'm ready to touch you and follow them. But usually not.

I know that eventually I'll have to touch you, and if you get impatient or think I'm taking too long, you'll just touch me and it will all be over. You'll touch me and I'll lose myself to you forever. I don't know when it will happen, only that it will. Until then, it doesn't make much sense to be afraid of you.

But I am anyway.

Love,

Midnight