Dear friend,

Have you ever wished on a dandelion and, while watching the white seedlings scatter, hoped that at the end of your breath there will be none left attached? I have. Because, of course, my wish will only come true if I blow the seeds out all in one breath. Then, if I see there are one or two which didn’t let go, I wonder in fear. Will my wish still come true? Surely the universe or whatever power which dictates wishes on dandelions won’t discriminate because I failed to blow out every seed.

Then I think So what if it doesn’t come true? Will I be okay without it? Or will I be crushed if my wish is denied? But perhaps it’s something I actually don’t need, and I can let go.

This is my analogy for how I feel when I think about you. Because, after all the effort I put into wishing for you, surely you won’t be kept from me based on some universal technicality or any minute failure on my part. Yet, I have no assurance that after all this time you will actually start to love me. So, like when I contemplate those two seeds jeopardizing my wish’s possibility of coming true, I wonder in fear…

Then I start to think So what if you don’t realize I’m the only girl in the world? Will I be okay? How heart-broken will I be if you simply move on? Is it possible that your love isn’t what I need and that I ought to let go?

Have you ever wished you had a direct line to the power which dictates the granting of wishes? I have. I wish I could ask for a clear description of what exactly I can expect from wishing, and what it is I get myself into when I hazard the thing called hope.

My dear, what shall become of my hope?