Dear The-Guy-Who-Holds-My-Hand-Sometimes,
Sometimes when it gets late I start getting drunk off of the music I listen to. I start to become the most incredible nothing, just another human with very human thoughts and very human feelings, yet somehow I can't help but feel cosmic.
Did you also know that in these moments, you're almost always running across my mind? It's as sure as the fact that the next few tomorrow's will be spent alone, tirelessly trying to fill the empty spots in my ribs.
Lately, in my pseudo-drunken state of mind, I've started stumbling over the idea of our love. I try to chew it up and get a feel for it, but it always ends up feeling like tin against the roof of my mouth.
It keeps me up at night, the idea of you looking at me and seeing not love, but fear -- fear that you're not doing this right, fear that I'm an anchor when all you wanted to be was a balloon. I fear that we have an expiration date; we're going to end and I'm going to realize that I gave myself away to someone who can't give it back, and that terrifies me.
I feel that after we become strangers again, the fear that you see in me won't be how I'm suffocation in the flesh, but how I've become nothing but a breathing collection of memories that you used to call home.
Now days, I feel a little bit awkward every time I say I love you, which is a little bit funny, because now I mean it more than ever. It's only awkward because I know that you aren't sure if you can say it back.
Did you know that I really and truly love everything about you? All of those little quirks that I scold you for, I only scold because secretly I'm laughing, even though I know you shouldn't be so rough with furniture and so careless with knives and that you shouldn't leave the refrigerator door open. (And while I'm at it, for the love of god stop stealing your brothers socks!) Although I sound like I'm verging insanity, the truth is: I love everything about you, from your feathery hair down to your brothers stretched out socks. I love you when you make fun of me for being horrible at math. I love you when I say something and it goes completely over your head, or when I throw hints and you miss every single one of them. I love you when you don't want to rub my back but you do anyways. I love you when you bring me close to your body and hold me for a while. I love you when you ask me to read out loud because you love the sound of my voice, or when you ask me to sing to you because you want to crack me open like an oyster shell. I love you when you look at me and you don't love me back.
And I think that's the worst part. It's not that I might have to say goodbye one day, or even that "one day" might be sooner than we think, but the fact that even now when I'm hopelessly, helplessly, and irrevocably in love with you, you still can't say the same to me.
