When I sit in silence, often times I find my thoughts crawl in your direction. Its not a conscious, purposeful process. Its involuntary and mostly happens in the background of whatever else is happening around me.
What really makes things interesting is that no matter where we stand, my thoughts are usually positive. The silence makes me want to extend my immediate circumstance in a way that it includes you. The inward contemplation usually gets punctuated by a desire to share my thoughts with you and to predict how you would interpret them.
But on most days and at most times, you are a different person than the one existing in my head. So I neutralise the apparent conflict by thinking of you as the same person, but in parallel universes, one where you are the perfected version of yourself, and the other that your ordinary self inhabits. This is not to say that I am only connected to who I imagine you to be. All it means is that I understand you are human, but to protect myself from the pain that accompanies change, I keep a static version of you, a reference point.
In my head, you are devoid of anger, pain, hatred, jealousy. In my head, you are above need and desire. In my head, you are your first self, your childlike uninhibited person. In my head, you are always smiling. In my head, I could never get over you.