"I was so busy missing you, I missed someone else standing right in front of me. Now I’m missing them instead."
--The Fine Art of Longing, taken from I Wrote This For You
it's funny, how you and i are strangers in different parts of the world.
and yet when i hear your stories, i can recognize. when i see your sadness, i can sympathize. when i see the way your heart breaks, i can tell you that mine broke the same way but here i am today anyway, with a heart transplant and a smile on my face. when you see me cry, you can tell me that everything happens for a reason, and that reason is for me to enjoy and understand one day, on my own.
it's strange the way you affect me, and i affect you. it's strange the way we both don't even know we're affected.
perhaps we're meant for bigger and better things, like endless summers, or butterflies in our stomachs, or contented sighs from a work well done. perhaps our tragedies will really make u stronger like the stories go, and not leave us disheartened and broken down like we thought it would.
but it helps to know that while i am feeling these things, you're thousands of miles away from me, feeling the exact same way. maybe that's what we call fate.