13:41 | 0 Comments

Dear ********,

I f you’re reading this, it means I actually worked up the courage to send you, so good for me. I’m writing you a letter. That’s right a good old fashioned letter. It’s  a lost art like 50’s movies. You smell nice, most of the time, like home, but you don’t seem to have much interest in me. Which I of course find vaguely insulting. It is just you against the world. Funny how things never change.
It was an accident, I wasn’t looking for it, I wasn’t on the make. It was a perfect storm. You said the one thing and I the other. Next thing I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life in that conversation. That’s the good news. You’re completely nuts in a way that makes me smile. Highly neurotic, a great deal of maintenance required.  
I cruised along, doing my thing, acting like a fool, not understanding how being in love changes you. And I don’t remember the exact moment everything changed. I just know that it did. One moment I was impenetrable, nothing could touch me. The next, my heart was somehow beating the shit out of my chest, exposed to the elements.
Loving you has been the most profound, intense, painful experience of my life. In fact, it’s been almost too much to bear. As your lover, I made a silent vow to protect you from the world, never realizing I was the one who would end up hurting you the most.  When I flash forward, my heart breaks, mostly because I can’t imagine you speaking of me with any sort of pride, how could you?
I’m a child in a man’s body  who cares for noting and everything at the same time. Noble in thought, weak in action. Something has to change. Something has to give.
The bad news is that I don’t know how to be with you right now. We’ll get lost out there, it’s a big bad world full of twists and turns and people have a way of blinking and missing the moment.  A moment that could have changed everything. This scares the shit out of me. I don’t know what’s going on with us and I can’t tell you why you should waste a leap of faith on the likes of me. That’s got to count something, right? Call me.
Unfaithfully Yours.