Dear Stranger,

Once upon a time you used to have a name,
now I only know you as a stranger for that is what you are.
I spent nights wondering whom you are and when I fell asleep I dreamt that I met you,
but then I would wake up and realize that dreams are fantasy and this is reality.
And in reality you don't know who I am and I can't remember who you are.
In school they would speak of people like you
the ones who the daughters would seek comfort in and the sons would aspire to be,
but me?
I didn't find that comfort.
I instead found the forgotten hope and the insecurities.
The insecurities of being afraid of having a man in my life
because at any second they could leave without an answer
just like you did that night and I would have to be fine with it.
Maybe thats why I am afraid to tell the truth,
maybe thats why I am afraid for someone to know the real me.
These insecurities consumed me,
swallowed me like a boat in the midst of a hurricane.
They're the reason that I times I feel unworthy of having
someone to call "mine."
The reason I believe the idea that I deserve pain and only pain
because why should someone deserve happiness when their "happiness"
left them when they were barely one.
Then again you are the reason I don't get fooled so easily
The reason why I don't trust easily either and maybe that's a good thing,
because in the world we live in today we learn that trust is a mutual thing
but in the end one always trusts one more than the other and that's
where trust doesn't become trust anymore.
I gave my trust to you when I didn't have a voice
and perhaps you knew you couldn't give that trust back and maybe that's why you left.
You are the root of many things but how can someone be the root of one of
my lifes existence when you don't have a face?
How can you have an effect on me when I don't know your voice.
Maybe I want to know who you are.
Maybe I want to know how you would look when you see me.
Or maybe I'm holding onto the false hope that when you do see me,
regret would consume you and you'd ask for my forgiveness and somehow
I can really get my happy ending.
But this is reality and in reality happy endings don't come so easily.

Thank you for the pain that is buried deep within me.
Without it I wouldn't have been able to
understand what it meant to truly hurt and I wouldnt have learned to feel.

Once upon a time I was asked if I wanted to meet you,
my seven year old self didn't know much back then
just as I began to say yes I saw the look in my mothers eyes
refrained my words and knew what I had to say,
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."