Fazza masterfully elevates romantic longing into a profound meditation on intentionality and the courage to be truly seen. It is a refined, philosophical take on devotion that prioritizes the depth of character over mere sentimentality.
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A Powerful Love Letter To The Woman I Haven_t Met Yet... _ Sheikh Hamdan _ Fazza Poems _ FazzaAdded:
I don't know why I'm doing this right now. Maybe it's late at night and I can't sleep again.
Maybe I picked up my phone a hundred times tonight, started typing something, deleted it, and started over. But here I am finally deciding to just save all of it. The things I've been carrying around inside me for longer than I can explain, and I need you to know before I say anything else that this is real. This isn't something I practiced. This isn't something I planned. This is me sitting here in the quiet, thinking about you, and I mean you, specifically the one listening to this right now, wondering if you have any idea how much space you take up in my thoughts. I want to ask you something, and I need you to really think about it. Have you ever felt like someone was made for you, but you just hadn't found them yet? Like somewhere out there there's a person who would understand you in all the ways you've always needed to be understood. Not just the easy parts of you, not just the version of you that smiles and laughs and makes everything look fine, but the version of you that's scared sometimes, the version that's been hurt, the version that goes quiet in certain rooms because you're not sure if anyone would really get it if you said what was actually on your mind. Have you ever felt that? Because I have. And I think about that person, I think about you more than you know.
I remember the first time I realized that the love I wanted wasn't something I had ever actually found yet. I was sitting somewhere completely ordinary.
It wasn't dramatic. It wasn't cinematic.
And I just had this feeling wash over me that something was missing. Not in a sad way, not in a way that broke me, but in the way that you feel when you're standing at a window on a rainy evening and you're not quite sure what you're waiting for, but you know you're waiting for something. That's when I started thinking about you. Not someone specific. Not a face I had already seen.
Just you. The idea of you. The feeling of you. And I've been thinking about it ever since. I [snorts] want you to understand something that I've never really said out loud to anyone. I'm not a perfect person. I have mornings where I wake up and I'm not sure I'm doing everything right. I have moments where I doubt myself completely, where I replay conversations in my head and wonder if I said the wrong thing. Where I sit with my own silence and find it uncomfortable. I've made mistakes. I've been too much in some moments and not enough in others. I've had times in my life where I gave pieces of myself to the wrong places. And I walked away from those times a little worn out, a little quieter than I was before. But here's the thing, and I need you to hear this.
Every single one of those moments, every single one of those mistakes and hard nights and confusing seasons of my life has brought me to this moment where I'm talking to you. And I wouldn't trade any of it because I think it's been shaping me into someone who is ready, ready for you. And I don't even know your name yet. Isn't that the strangest thing? I don't know your name. I don't know the sound of your laugh. I don't know whether you take your coffee sweet or whether you prefer tea. I don't know if you're someone who stays up late or wakes up with the sun. I don't know the little things, the way your voice sounds when you're tired, the way your eyes look when you're thinking about something that means a lot to you, the way you hold yourself when you walk into a room. I don't know any of it yet. And somehow, even without knowing any of it, I already feel something for you that I don't have a perfect word for. It's not just love as the world describes it.
It's something closer to recognition.
Like somewhere deep inside me, I already know you. Like you're not a stranger at all. I've been thinking about what it's going to be like, that moment when everything shifts, because I believe in that moment. I believe there's going to be a moment where I see you or hear you or you say something and something in me is going to go completely still. Not the kind of still that comes from shock. The kind of still that comes from arrival.
Like after a long, long journey, you finally stop walking and you look around and you realize this is it. This is the place. I've been looking for this. I don't know when that moment is coming. I don't know what the setting will be. I don't know what the circumstances will look like. I don't know if it'll happen in an ordinary place or somewhere unexpected, but I know it's coming. And I know that when it does, I'm going to understand everything that came before it so much more clearly. Here's what I want you to know about the kind of man I'm trying to be for you. I'm not trying to be perfect. I already told you I'm not perfect, but I am trying every single day to be someone worthy of the love I'm hoping to give you and receive from you. I'm trying to be more patient.
I'm trying to listen better, not just with my ears, but with everything in me, to actually be present when someone is talking to me, to not be somewhere else in my head. I'm learning how to be still, how to sit with things instead of running from them, how to say what I mean without making it harder than it needs to be. I'm doing this because I know that when you come into my life, I want to be ready. I want to be someone you can rest with, someone whose presence feels safe, someone you never have to perform for, never have to pretend around, never have to shrink yourself to be with. And I need to tell you something about that, about this idea of shrinking yourself, because I think about it a lot and I wonder if you've ever done it. I wonder if you've ever made yourself smaller in someone's presence just to keep the peace. I wonder if you've ever swallowed something you wanted to say because you weren't sure it would land right or because you were tired of being misunderstood or because the environment didn't feel safe enough for you to be fully yourself. I wonder if anyone has ever made you feel like who you are was just a little bit too much, too emotional, too sensitive, too loud, too quiet, too complicated, too anything.
And if that has ever happened to you, I want you to know something. With me, there is no too much. With me, all of it, every complicated and messy and beautiful and difficult part of you, all of it has a place. All of it is welcome.
You do not have to earn your right to be fully yourself with me. You just get to be. Do you know what I find myself imagining sometimes? I imagine ordinary moments with you. And that might sound like a small thing, but I think the ordinary moments are actually the most beautiful ones. I imagine mornings where neither of us are trying to be anything in particular, where we're just there moving around each other in some quiet, easy rhythm, where everything is soft and slow and there's nowhere to be and nothing to prove. I imagine the kind of conversations that happen late at night when you're both tired, but you don't want to stop talking. Where you end up going somewhere unexpected in the conversation and then look at each other and feel that thing, that thing that's hard to name but unmistakable when you feel it. I imagine laughing with you, not just a polite laugh, not a social laugh, but that kind of helpless laughter that comes from somewhere real, the kind that makes your eyes water and leaves you breathless and a little bit embarrassed. And I imagine looking at you in that moment and thinking, "Yeah, this is it. This is exactly it." And I think about the harder moments, too, because I want to be honest with you.
I'm not just romanticizing what we could have. I'm serious about it. There are going to be days that are hard, days where we disagree and neither of us are handling it perfectly, days where life is heavy and we're both a little depleted and it's not easy to be generous with each other the way we normally would be. I know those days are coming, not because I'm pessimistic, but because that's what real love looks like. It includes all of it. And what I want you to know is that on those days, I'm not going anywhere. On those days, I'm going to choose you, not because it's always easy, but because the choice is always clear. Because you're worth showing up for, even when showing up is hard. I need you to know that before we've even met, I'm already committed to that version of us. There's something else I've been wanting to say, and I'm not sure I've ever said it quite this clearly before. I think you are braver than you know. I think you have carried things that were heavy and you didn't let them make you cold. I think you have been through moments that would have been enough to close someone off completely, and instead you stayed open, stayed soft, stayed someone who still believes in things, still feels things deeply, still shows up for people even when you yourself are tired. I see that about you even though I haven't seen your face yet. I see the kind of person you are in the way people like you exist in the world, quietly strong, deeply feeling, trying every day to be real in a world that's always asking everyone to be something else. And I want you to know that I see it. I honor it. And I love that about you already. Sometimes I catch myself in moments of real stillness, those rare moments when everything around me is genuinely quiet, and I send something out toward you. I don't know what to call it. It's not prayer exactly, though it has some of that energy. It's more like I close my eyes and I direct something toward where you are, wherever you are right now in this world, and I try to say without words, "I'm coming. I haven't forgotten you. I haven't given up. Keep going.
Keep being you. I'm on my way." And I wonder in those moments, if you ever feel something you can't explain, some warmth that doesn't come from anything obvious, some sense that somewhere someone is thinking of you with real tenderness, because that might be me.
That might be exactly me.
I want to know everything about you, and I mean that in the most patient, unhurried way possible.
I'm not trying to rush anything. I'm not trying to skip to the end. I want to know the things that light you up, the topics that make you forget what time it is, the places you've been that changed something in you, the books or the songs or the moments in life that made you feel like someone finally said what you'd always felt but never had the words for. I want to know what you look like when you're in your element, when you're doing something you love and you're completely absorbed in it and you forget to be self-conscious and you're just there, fully, radiantly there. I want to know your story, not the summary of it. Not the version you give at the beginning of getting to know someone, but the real version, the chapters that were complicated, the chapters that surprised you, the chapters you're still making sense of. I want all of it. I have the time. I have the patience. I have the genuine desire to know. And here's what I want to leave you with right now, in this moment. Even though there's so much more I feel and so much more I could say, and I will, I promise I will. I want you to know that you are already, even before we've shared a single moment together, one of the most important things in my life. You are the direction I'm moving in.
You are the reason I'm trying to be better every day. You are the thought that shows up in my quietest moments and reminds me what all of this is for. And whether you find this early or late, whether we're close or far, whether the timing feels right or complicated when we finally find each other, none of that changes what I feel right now saying this to you. I am not in a hurry, but I am not passive either. I am actively becoming the person who deserves to stand next to you. I am learning, growing, softening in the right places and strengthening in others, building something worth coming home to. And when the moment comes, and it is coming, I want you to look at me and feel it in every part of yourself. This person chose me before they even found me. This person was already loving me when I was still just a hope.
Because that's exactly what you are to me right now. You are my most beautiful, most certain hope.
And I think about hope a lot lately, what it really means. Because hope isn't passive, is it? Hope isn't just sitting somewhere and wishing. Real hope is active.
Real hope is the thing that makes you get up in the morning and try again. The thing that makes you look at your own life honestly and say, "I want more than this." Not out of greed, but out of genuine belief that something more is possible. And that's what you are to me.
You are the reason I look at my own life with honesty and ask myself hard questions. You are the reason I don't settle, not just in love, but in everything, in who I'm being, in how I'm showing up, in the kind of man I'm committed to becoming. Because I know that one day you're going to be there, right there, in my actual life, not just in my thoughts. And I want every choice I'm making right now in this season before we found each other to be something I'm proud of when that day comes. I want to tell you about something I've been sitting with recently. There are nights, and maybe you know what I mean, maybe you've had these nights, too, where the quiet gets very loud, where you lie there and the world around you is still, but inside you something is moving, turning over, restless in a way that's hard to explain.
And in those nights, I don't feel lonely exactly, but I feel the space where you're supposed to be. I feel it the way you feel a room that was just warm a few minutes ago and is now starting to cool.
You can't see the warmth anymore, but you remember it, and your body knows something is different. That's how your absence feels to me sometimes.
Like I'm living in the memory of something I haven't experienced yet.
Like my heart already knows what it's missing even before my life has had the chance to provide it. And I don't say that to make you feel the weight of it.
I say it because I want you to understand the depth of what I'm feeling when I think about you. I want you to understand that this isn't casual. This isn't surface level. What I feel when I imagine you, when I imagine us, goes all the way down to something fundamental in me. Something that feels less like desire and more like recognition, less like want and more like belonging. And belonging is such a rare thing.
I think it might be the rarest thing.
Because belonging isn't about being accepted by someone. It's about being known by someone, really known in the full and complicated and imperfect reality of who you are, and being chosen anyway, completely, wholeheartedly, without reservation. That is what I want to offer you. That is what I am building myself toward being able to offer you, and I need you to know that I don't take that lightly. I don't throw that word belonging around easily. I'm not someone who says things to fill silence. When I say something, I mean it all the way through. And what I mean all the way through is that I want to be the place where you belong. I want to be the person in your life who makes you feel like you finally don't have to explain yourself anymore. Like you can let your arms down. Like you can exhale in the deepest way. That kind of exhale that you didn't even realize you'd been holding back until something finally made it safe to let it go.
Can I tell you something about the way I see you, even without knowing you yet? I see you with such clarity, it sometimes startles me. I see someone who has given a great deal of herself to the world, to people, to responsibilities, to relationships, to the version of yourself you felt you were supposed to be in different rooms in different seasons of your life. I see someone who has sometimes poured from herself without being poured into in return. I see someone who is more generous with grace toward other people than you are toward yourself, who is quick to forgive others and slow to offer yourself the same mercy. I see someone who has moments of real doubt, not about what she wants, but about whether what she wants is truly possible for her specific you, whether love that feels safe and deep and real and lasting is something that exists in her particular story. And I want to look you directly in the eyes when I say this. It does. It absolutely does. Your story is not the exception.
Your story is not the one where that kind of love skips you. I am evidence of that because I am here, thinking of you, wanting you, coming toward you. I've been thinking about what it means to truly see someone.
Not just to look at them. We look at people all the time without really seeing them. But to truly see someone is something different entirely. It means you're paying attention not just to what they say, but to what they don't say. It means you notice the small things, the way their energy shifts when a certain topic comes up, the way their face does something quiet and private when they hear something that touches them, the way they hold their emotions sometimes like they're not sure they're allowed to put them down. To truly see someone is to be so present with them that they feel it. They feel the quality of your attention like something warm on their skin. And that is what I want to give you. Not just affection, not just love in the broad and general sense of the word, but this specific, careful, devoted attention. I want to see you, all of you, and I want you to feel seen every single day. Because here's what I believe, and I believe it more the older I get and the more I understand about life and love and people, I believe that what most of us are really longing for underneath everything else is to be truly seen. Not admired, not desired, not needed, though those things have their place, but truly, honestly, deeply seen.
To have someone look at you and take you in and not flinch, not reduce you, not try to rearrange you into something more convenient or more comfortable for them.
To have someone receive all of you, the whole, full, complicated picture, and respond not with judgment or with fixing, but simply with presence, simply with love.
I want to be that for you, and this is not an aspiration I hold lightly. It is a commitment I am making to you right now, across whatever time and distance still sits between us.
I want to talk about the kind of mornings I dream about. Not grand ones, not vacations or special occasions, though I look forward to those, too.
I'm talking about the kind of morning that is entirely unremarkable to the outside world, but feels like everything to the two people inside it. The kind of morning where the light comes in slow and golden, and there's no alarm pulling anyone into urgency. Where we're both somewhere between sleeping and waking, and neither of us anything. Neither of us is trying to be impressive, or witty, or put together.
Where we're just there, present, soft.
And maybe we talk about something that doesn't matter at all, something silly, something small, and it makes us both laugh. And in that laugh is an entire world. An entire world that belongs to just the two of us. I want that world. I am building space for that world inside my life. And I am leaving a door open, wide open, for you to walk through it when the time comes.
There is something I've been afraid to say, not because it isn't true, but because it's vulnerable in a way that asks a lot. But I'm going to say it anyway, because I think you deserve my honesty more than you deserve my composure. I have been lonely. Not always. Not in a way that has broken me, but in the specific way that comes from moving through life with a full heart and not having the right person to pour that heart into. I have had people around me, people who care about me, and I am grateful for every one of them. But there is a particular aloneness that exists even in a crowded room, even in a life that looks full from the outside.
The aloneness that comes from not yet having found the person your heart was made to meet. And I carry that sometimes, quietly. In the way that people carry things they've learned to live alongside without making too much noise about.
But here's what I want you to understand about that loneliness. It hasn't made me bitter. It hasn't made me closed. If anything, it has made me more sure. More sure of what I want. More sure of the kind of love I'm looking for. More sure that I will not settle for something that looks like love, but doesn't feel like home. Because I know what home is supposed to feel like, even if I haven't found it yet.
I know because I can feel the shape of it. The warmth of it when I imagine you.
And everything that has ever felt not quite right in my life has simply been the process of arriving at you.
Every door that closed was a kindness.
Every ending that hurt was pointing me somewhere better.
I know that now, and where it was pointing me, where all of it has been pointing me, is you. I want to tell you about love the way I understand it now, which is different from how I understood it when I was younger. When I was younger, I thought love was mostly a feeling, something that arrived and overtook you, and you just experienced it. And feelings are real. I'm not diminishing them. The feeling of love is one of the most extraordinary things a human being can experience. But I've come to understand that love is also a decision. It is something you choose every day, and sometimes multiple times in a single day. It is the choice to turn towards someone when turning away would be easier. It is the choice to be honest, even when honesty is uncomfortable. It is the choice to stay curious about someone, even when you think you already know everything about them, because people are always changing and growing and surprising us if we stay open enough to notice. Love is patience when you've already run out of patience.
Love is gentleness when you're tired.
Love is showing up not because it feels effortless, but because you've looked at this person and decided again and again and again that they are worth every bit of the effort. And I want you to know that I am choosing you right now, before I know your name or your face or your story. Before I know the sound of your voice or the warmth of your hand or the way you laugh when something genuinely catches you off guard.
I am choosing you because something in me already knows you are worth choosing.
Something in me already understands that when you arrive in my life, choosing you is going to be the easiest and most important decision I ever make. And I don't want you to wait until that moment to know it. I want you to know it now.
Wherever you are tonight, whatever you're feeling, whatever you're carrying, I want you to know that somewhere someone is already choosing you. Already rooting for you. Already saving a place for you that no one else is going to fill. Do you know what one of my favorite thoughts is? It's the thought that right now, in this exact moment, we are both alive in the world at the same time. We are breathing the same air, living under the same sky, moving through our separate lives that are without us even knowing it yet.
Gradually moving toward each other.
Right now, you are somewhere doing something. Maybe something ordinary.
Maybe something that matters a great deal to you. And I am here thinking of you, sending all of this out toward you across whatever space is between us. And the universe, or time, or life, whatever you believe in, is quietly, patiently arranging things. Moving pieces. Opening paths. Closing wrong doors and building the right ones. And one day, not too far from now, those separate paths are going to meet. And everything is going to change for both of us, forever. I just want you to keep going until that day.
Keep being yourself, your full, beautiful, complicated, extraordinary self. Don't shrink. Don't harden.
Don't let the waiting make you doubt that you are worth arriving for, because you are. You are so completely and entirely worth it. Keep your heart open even when it's scary. Even when it feels like the brave and foolish thing to do.
Because it is going to lead you somewhere real. Somewhere that feels the way home is supposed to feel. Keep believing in the kind of love that sees you, because it is not a fantasy. It is not too much to ask for. It is exactly what you deserve. And it is exactly what I intend to give you.
There is still so much I want to say to you. There is still so much sitting inside me that is looking for the words, that is trying to find the right way to cross the distance between where I am and where you are, and land somewhere close to your heart. And I will keep trying. I will keep finding the words, because you are worth every attempt, every imperfect sentence, every moment I spend reaching toward you across the quiet. And reaching toward you has become the most natural thing I do. It doesn't feel like effort anymore. It feels like breathing. Like something my heart does automatically, without being asked, without needing a reason. And I've stopped questioning it. I've stopped looking at this feeling sideways and wondering if it makes sense, if it's logical, if anyone else would understand it. It doesn't need to make sense to anyone but me. And to me, it makes all the sense in the world, because you are the most real thing I've never touched.
You are the most present absence in my life. And I mean that in the most beautiful way possible. You take up space in me the way only something truly important can. Not in a way that suffocates. In a way that gives me room to grow. I've been thinking about growth a lot recently. About what it actually means to grow.
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