I am scared to write this to you. I am scared to even feel this way. I have learned from a lot of lessons from my past mistakes. I have a lot of scars that show where I come from.
And every single broken heart, every single tear that has fallen, every sleepless night, all scream to me from my past "You are making a huge mistake!"
There are so many good reasons not to love you. For one thing, I am positive you could never love me. That alone should be enough. I'm not even sure you could like me. But more than that, I love you, but I don't even particularly like you. You're kind of repulsive to look at. You get angry with me all the time.
But when my conscious is laid to rest, when my brain is left to wander and I dream at night, it always comes back to you.
I love you, but there is no rhyme or reason to it. I don't know how long it will last. I suspect not very long. And I know you deserve to be loved. By someone more loving, more deserving than myself.
But this I write to you, hoping that maybe I am wrong. That maybe you might love me, or maybe even just like me a little. That maybe we can coax this into something more. That maybe the nothing that is between
us now could become the something neither of us can live without.
I love you without need and without encouragement. Perhaps that is the best kind of love. The most honest.
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