It's been a year since last I wrote to you. Another year, another night of longing from afar. Where do we stand now, one more year gone by? In this past year, have I come any closer to holding you in my arms?
Well, I'd like to think so.
It was when Tina Fey and Steve Martin took the stage that my heart truly began to flutter. Not only because I adore them both (now, don't be jealous, love), but because as the page from a screenplay rose majestically behind them, it felt familiar. The format. The courier typeface. The line breaks, the spacing. These are the pages that I so often stare at, filling them with my words and stories, hoping that someday, they might catch your attention.
I've realized, though, that you are not the only tiny little statue over whom I swoon. I do have other crushes... Tony, Obie, Pulitzer... I feel that I should come clean, confess this now rather than making things awkward down the line. But you were my first, and for that, as well as for your sheer glamor factor, you will always hold a special place in my heart. (And let's be honest - you get around, my dear, and are not always entirely discriminating in your selection of consorts.)
I've also realized that, even if our love goes unrequited for years to come, well, not to bring up the not-always-discriminating thing again, but - my heart will go on. You're just sitting there, waiting. Though it's not usually my way, I know that I have to make the first move here.
I'm working on it.
Yours,
Beth
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