Of Love And Letters

I tried again to write your letter but you’re never going to get it. I like you but I don’t want to lie to you and say I want to spend the rest of my life with you because I don’t think I do. I dont want to say I want to wake up to you every morning and kiss your shoulder because I’m not sure I do. I don’t want to say that I can imagine a house and kids with you because that’s not even a thing I want.

It would be easy, but it wouldn’t be fair to regurgitate all the things you’ve said to me back to you because it wouldn’t be true.

I guess I’m holding out for someone who is amazing, someone who blows my mind, someone who changes the way I feel about love.

I think I’m that person for you. You talk about twenty years from now and children together and riding bikes together but you’ve never actually asked me what I want twenty years from now. You mentioned how you don’t feel gross when you say sweet things and call me doll like you did with other girlfriends. I’m different to you. I crawled in your brain and fucked everything up for you. But it’s okay, you say.

You’re not that person for me.

Dont’ get me wrong, I thought you were at first. Two weeks ago, even, I was so excited to see you on campus and just get to walk around holding your hand. I was still too nervous to even tell you what I wanted that day. I don’t know what changed. I wish it hadn’t. I’m sorry it changed.


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