Rarely do we get a chance to speak, you and I. But when we do, I turn my eyes away, painfully aware of my imperfections. I care about how I look to you, and I’m afraid to let you see me. I know you will reject me; it’s been done before.

I try to downplay how you changed my life. Maybe the past two to three years loving you wasn’t so bad. Maybe, it had to happen that way, just so I could experience life so badly. Maybe I needed to let myself lie on the ground as you stepped all over me, giving away i love yous and it’s okays, alrights, and chances. The blue fairy must have been smiling down on my understanding, applauding my efforts in loving, and understanding you. Maybe, all that time doesn’t matter in the long run. I’ve got a couple of years more on the way anyway, so does the past really matter?

I don’t know how to act around you. But thank you for making me feel like a child again. I can’t be myself around you; I’m tired of hoping. I’m hesitant to put myself on the line again. There are gray clouds in this stormy weather. The sun is shining for you, but not for me. I’d love to forgive you. I’d love to let you go. And I love that I love you this much. Enough to let you go.


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