I don’t know where you are right now.
Maybe you’re chasing your dreams, folding laundry with music on, or staring at the sky like I do — wondering if someone out there is meant to see you for all that you are.
If so, I hope this reaches you.
I’ve loved deeply before, sometimes too quickly, sometimes without knowing how to stop. I’ve broken my own heart trying to hold others gently. I’ve lived in stories I wrote alone, hoping someone would step in and say, “I see you… and I’m not going anywhere.”
I’ve waited. Not passively, but patiently — growing myself in quiet corners, trying to be the kind of man who doesn’t just love with words, but with stillness, with loyalty, with warmth that doesn’t ask to be earned.
And when you come, I won’t need fireworks.
Just your eyes. Just that look — the one that says I’m home. The one that doesn’t measure me or shrink me or fix me. The one that simply knows.
I dream of silly things with you — cooking together, tripping over each other in the kitchen, fighting over which movie to watch, sitting with our backs touching as we read separate books. But more than anything, I dream of the peace your presence will bring. A soft knowing. A steady joy.
Until then, I’m here. Living. Learning. Becoming. Loving even when it hurts. Not rushing, but never closing the door either.
I hope you’re safe. I hope you’re loved. And I hope, when the time is right, our stories will find their way into one another.
And when you look at me with those eyes — I’ll know.
Yours, even now,
Rishaba