I’ve written a lot of letters to the people who left. I always know the right words to describe the pain they inflicted. It was so easy for me to put into words the loneliness they left within me, it was easy to describe myself in pieces because as sad as it may seem. Being broken is all I’ve ever known, it was as if I’ve been in the dark for so long that it has become a part of me, a comfort of which I don’t know how to step out.
So, please, I hope you understand that it is hard for me to accept something I’m not familiar with, I hope you understand that I’m not used to being loved, so I often don’t know how to react or how to believe you when you tell me you love me. I hope you don’t blame me when I try to push you away; I’m just afraid. I’m scared of getting hurt, but I’m a lot more terrified of being happy because I know I won’t be able to withstand the cold anymore once you give me warmth. I hope you don’t get annoyed every time I ask you if you love me or if you mean it, I just need to hear you say it, I need to hear it so that the voices in my head won’t win. I hope you don’t mind if I hug you a little too tight or if I kiss you a little too deep, it’s just because I don’t want to have any regrets, I want to spend every moment loving you as much as I could, while I still could. I hope you don’t try to fix me or paint me as an idea of someone you want me to be.
I hope you don’t get mad every time I talk to you about endings—our possible ending—because I’ve lived long enough to know that love isn’t like the movies. Love is a damn miracle, and you’re so lucky to fall in love and be loved back, and you’re incredible once you get to keep it. Love is work. It doesn’t depend on fate or destiny, it depends on you, on us, on the choices we’d make. I hope you choose me, over anything and anyone, because I sure as hell would. I’d do anything and everything to keep you because I can no longer imagine myself spending the rest of my life with anyone else. I love you. … (c)
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