Here’s a list

Here’s a list of all that I like about you.

You’re funny

You’re smart

You care about people more than I do, and you teach me to care more.

You are patient

You are kind

You speak your mind

You know what you think and you’re thoughtful to consider other sides

You love the Lord, all of this I think flows from that

You have great friends, and they all love you

You’re very quick, clever, witty. They all show themselves uniquely

You’re beautiful, not to mention incredibly pretty

You’re eyes see me immediately, with no effort

You want to know me, which isn’t very familiar

You get along with my family, and welcomed me into yours

You’re creative, always making things whether crafty or cerebral

You like nice things, but don’t need nice things

You pray, and you want to know the Lord and all other around you to know him too

You think I’m funny, but not that funny

You’re not afraid to disagree, it doesn’t end all things

You’re different from me, and think we make each other better.

Here’s the thing, none of this really sounds romantic. That’s not really the point though. This list is by no means exhaustive, and as I continue to think more and more things pop up that prove you’re perfect. But it also becomes more apparent, the more I think about it, that you’re not real.

Maybe that’s not fair, because you definitely exist, just nowhere outside of my head. And I’ve been trying so hard to find you in these people. I was so sure you were some of them, and that they were you. But each time I’ve been wrong. And the fact is this list is unfair. I’m trying to find you but people aren’t a collection of bullet points. So when each girl I thought was you steps out of line, I think “well this isn’t her.” But as I said before, you’re not real. You’re just an expectation, which is a way of saying you’re me, minus my insecurities because I’m the one doing the expecting. As long as I wait for you, I will only find myself, and disappointment that these girls aren’t who I wanted them to be. That’s the thing, as long as I want them to be you, I can’t want them. And that’s not what love is. Love isn’t making sure they are exactly who I want them to be.

You’re perfect, and I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to let go of you because you’re everything I’ve ever wanted, minus the fact that you’re fake. Sure, everyone else out there may not live up to this list I’ve made, but they will have one thing on you always, and its that they’re real. I can never hold your hand, I can never look into your eyes that know me so well. I can never hear you pray the way I think you do. And the girl I end up with may not be perfect and will probably be missing a few things from the list, but I can feel her fingers, and know the color of her eyes, and I can hear her pray, even if its just for her food. And its that girl, whoever she is, that I need to love. Not a list I’ve told her to be, but who she is. And there will be bad things about her. I don’t know what, but that’s the point. I wont be holding her next to this checklist hoping, ill be asking her questions with the excitement of knowing. Who she is, how she is, why she is. She wont be another me she’ll be herself, and she’ll invite me in. And I know it sounds like I’m just creating another list for her to adhere to, but this one isn’t finished. She’s just beginning to create it. Because she exists, and she may not be the one, but she’s real. And that trumps everything that I could think about you. So whatever slight interest I have in her is worth more than any dream I could have that you may come along. Reality should always weigh more than dreams you have no control over. And to be sure I don’t control you. I’m just hoping that you choose to show up. So I’m gonna say goodbye, because there’s this girl and i’m not sure how interested I am in her. And you’re not real, so you have no business stopping me from getting to know someone who is.