I sent my resume to Microsoft with the objective: World Domination Through Technology.
I'm waiting for the MS Cops to come hunt me down like the dog I am.

This is a love letter, an ode, a warm fuzzy to someone who needs it badly, at times...
Have you ever met someone with whom there was an immediate comfort, a connection on some level, to the point where it's as if there's never been distance or difference between you?
I have met my equal and equivalent -- If there was a remote possibility we were twins, we might as well have been separated at birth, so alike are our thought processes and value systems.
I met him some time ago... We were somehow close from that moment... And though we've spent little time together, I miss his presence most times that I think of the absence. He means a lot to me, but not due to a long history, or shared experience. Just because we're so much alike... and we know each other. In a really odd way, and on some weird, ethereal level.

There's an attraction between us, I feel, but (on my side, anyway) it's not really even a physical one; That is there, but it's almost pointless and muddying... in the way of a cleaner understanding. I caught sight of it once, in that point between dreams and alertness, when we both half-woke at the same time.
It was never mentioned again, but the memory is one I pull out on occasion to look over, and replay. Puzzle over. Our paths don't really cross, and I have reason to believe that they will rarely follow along the same route, but knowing he's out there means a lot.

Does this make any sense? Am I in any way expressing the complete comfort-warm-bath feeling that he gives me? I think it's harder to explain than I thought it might be. Everything's so much clearer right before you go to sleep. In the morning; lost.

Bright, funny, imaginative; A healthy disregard for convention and stupidity; A poetic romantic soul; a heart five times bigger than most people's; an ability to live in a fantasy world and still handle reality...
These are the things I see. I write this in hopes that he will too, one day. That he'll look at this enough times and finally, finally, it'll sink in. But I suppose that's pot and kettle.