I wonder if love letters are cliched these days? Are romantics out there any more? Because love letters are a piece of cake but I feel like a girl would just retreat if I were to give her a letter out of the blue. What do you all think? What is the proper way to introduce the romantic heart to a girl?
On a somewhat other note, I thought I'd write Anne Hathaway a love letter. I hope she gets back to me.
Dear Miss Hathaway,
I love you. I am sorry I had to be so forward but I am sorrier that right now we're still strangers. I'm in New York with you right now, maybe we're only 5 minutes from each other, but it's as if we're 5 dimensions apart. You exist in another universe, your entire existence is framed by Central Park where you'll be performing tonight. When I think about you it's impossible to separate your smile from the flower beds along fifth avenue. It's my most sincere dream that one day I'll be able to make that smile bloom in colors as vibrant as the purples and reds of the setting sun over a Central Park Summer Evening.
Anne, I'm asking you to marry me. I'm not insane and I highly doubt you'll ever read this let alone accept such a ludicrous proposal from an invisible sender. But I'm making the promise now that one day, maybe years from now, maybe even longer than that, I'll be in the position where that proposal won't sound so ridiculous and our love will shine, not like the setting sun, but like the rising one. And by then our age and our beauty might be in their twilight, but our youth will flash in our eyes and the sun will kindle a different kind of morning. Our morning will be bright and its skies will always be that 7 AM kind of blue, that specific shade that says the day is yours, take it. And we'll listen. And we'll take it.
So Miss Hathaway. Be ready. For one day we'll meet, and I'll have this secret letter, and hopefully so will you. And you'll know you've found me when you feel your smile bloom in a way it never has before. It'll feel like an orchid of the rarest kind, the prettiest flower in the world not because of its color and its shape (no flower in the world could ever be as pretty as you) but because it only blooms once a year on top of a snow capped mountain, and for that day or two, that flower knows God, she knows what she was put on that mountain peak to do.
So again, be ready, because from this moment on, I'm climbing that mountain. And every step is aimed directly for that white, white flower, sitting all alone at the top.