The last thing I really need to get out of my system is that, I just wish you believed in us more I guess. Sometimes I wonder if you stay silent about how you feel or what you’re thinking because you pity/resent/feel guilty for me, for how you were, for what happened, for being you I’m in love with. Sometimes I can’t help but question if you’re only doing this because you want to believe I’m a good person and “deserve” good, and it’s killing you. But I’m not, I don’t think I’m a good person, I don’t even think I’m an okay person, I wasn’t a good friend to you before, and I wasn’t a good partner really ever. It scares me to admit that because, then that means you know me better.

That means that if you’re not doing this for the sake of me, to make me happy, that you love me even when I’m so flawed. It’s terrifying. You terrify me. But I can’t help but feel that maybe it’s what scares you off too. That if you are doing this because you think I deserve it, it must be hard to believe me when I say I think you’re a good person, because I do, even when you’ve done many flawed things too. I mean, who could believe someone who can’t even believe themselves? How could you trust that I love you when I can’t even see you trusting you’re allowed to be yourself around me. You scare me bad. Sometimes in a bad way, but sometimes in this way where even if my stomach is churning and I’m having to clench my hands at the thought of you, I let it cover my body entirely. Maybe it’s the hunger of knowing you. Maybe it’s the fact I feel so much and I’m terrified I won’t ever be able to show you, but even with my gritting teeth and torn cheeks, I smile, because the knowing, knowing I even get to experience all that for you, is worth it. I hope one day you’ll know I mean it.