Dear Mr. Black

You may not remember me from last night, everybody was pretty awfully gone. But I'll remember you. So maybe I'll pretend you remember me. I'll pretend you don't think I'm lame and I'll pretend like that text I sent to your friend will eventually wind its way to you, and you'll smile and think of me. Do you remember how we talked about how sometimes we love so much it hurts? Do you remember how we talked about how our kindness could change the world?

Your kindness, for an instant, changed my world. You didn't have to be kind to me the way you were, you could have been like every other person in the world, fun and friendly yet still so apathetic. But you weren't...at least I don't think so. I don't know you. I met you once when you were drunk, but that's ok. Right now, that's who you are to me. In an instant you had a conversation with me that I've been dying to have with someone, you smiled with me, you held me while I fell asleep in your lap, so far away from everybody else, and you kissed me. And in one instant, you stole a little piece of my heart.

I'll probably never see you again Mr. Black. The part of me that is guarded and has become more aware as the need to protect myself grows says it's best that I never see you again, but the part of me that so desperately craves the love I see in me, in another's body, hopes that we cross paths again. The funny thing is though, even if we don't, you had me from hello and nothing in the world can change the fact that in one drunken conversation I gave you a piece of me. Enjoy it.

I find in you what feels like home.