It’s me again. I sat down at this laptop trying to figure out a way to settle the constant inner dialogue, a way to speak out to you without anyone knowing…not even myself. Trying to shake the bonding thoughts, the toxic feeling I haven’t done enough now I’m writing a letter I know I’ll never want to send off. Peaceful freedom for those who have nothing to say, I’ve wanted to tell you everything but couldn’t ever seem to find a way. Fearful that I would send you packing running off in the wrong direction, where I couldn’t guide you to the love I’ve always felt you deserved but had never gotten. Admirers always observing from afar, telling you quick thoughts about your beauty but never about who you are. They know you’re sweet, kind and gentle but don’t see beyond those simple words to explain the torment. Want to understand you in what they feel to be every way without asking the right question, just “What’s wrong” and “Is everything okay?”.
What started off as a letter to simply tell you how I feel, I figure you already know and just don’t know what to do with it. Speaking with you seems to bring an ease that I have never truly felt, I hope I am reciprocating that same feeling because this moment will forever resonate within my heart. Unfortunately my time has run short and I’m afraid I’ll never get the chance to tell you, oh wait I missed my chance and now you’re gone for good. I wish I hadn’t waited to send this letter but I’m glad I got to tell you before now became later. What started off as a simple letter to express what I never said, is now a memoir to a scar I shall never forget. Much love, I’m glad you knew.