I wrote this for you

My name is Kim Jongin and I’m going to tell you a little bit about myself (or the things in my mind, I guess).

People say that I’m a great writer but I tend to shake their compliments off. I don’t want to be called a writer.

I’m just a person who likes to write. Knowing glances are exchanged as familiar voices murmur how great of a lover I am.  Again, I don’t want to be called a lover; I’m just a person who loves.

I feel degraded when I’m being classified as a noun; a friend, a writer, a lover, a son.

Don’t get me wrong; it’s a nice feeling to be able to be called such things but I think it can’t be compared to the way I feel when someone describes me as someone who likes to laugh, cry, write, dream and love.

It gives off a greater dimension.

Now, why; you might ask, am I talking to you about being classified as a noun or verb?

To be honest with you, I don’t know either. It seems poetic to me so I write it down. It seems like a beautiful comparison so I write it down. It’s lyrical, so I write it down. Do I write down everything that I find beautiful and important?

Yes, Yes I do.

 To me, once you write something down; you’re sealing a contract with time. In time, footsteps get washed away by the visiting waves; leaves fall to kiss the ground just before it turns brown, and flesh wrinkles before returning back to its rightful place on earth as dirt. Time waits for no one and time, unfortunately; let’s no one pass through. We all perish.

I, however, have found a way to cheat the vicious way in which time pursues.

I poured my feelings out on pen and paper; every swirl and dot of the blank ink contains nothing but the unsteady flow of my raw emotions. It took days, weeks, months, years and eventually; centuries but I never stopped writing. I thought, I always thought that if I stopped; you’d vanish just as easily as you did before.

You’re the ‘something’ that’s beautiful and important to me. You’re the muse that I write about as I silently hope that behind these smiles and blotches of ink, the memory of you will be kept eternal on paper. I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else, who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think that they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you were waiting for.

You were meant to read these words.