Letters to You

The future

It's one o clock in the morning, and all I can think about is the time we watched friends in your basement. You told me you'd never seen it before, so I told you to turn it on right there and then as I stared at you with disbelief. Rachel said that she was going to marry a man with money, and I joked, saying I was going to do that too.

"I'll just make sure I get a good job," you told me.

I asked you to repeat what you said, and you brushed it away, shyly. Another time you texted me and told me to marry you. You always talked about having a someday with me.

Now you're growing older, and you're too afraid to talk about a future with me. You can see it, you always say. You just don't want to feel obligated to be with me forever. You say talking about your future makes you uncomfortable, and it makes me feel as if I need to smash a bunch of those really nice China plates.

I'm not stupid, I know our relationship has an expiration date in your mind. One day you'll have to move on to bigger things, and leave the first girl you loved behind. I feel like a pretty little lamb whose wool is growing, and you're just waiting for the perfect time to steal away all my shiny wool. I'm a calf whose growing and prospering who will ust be slaughtered one day. I'm a toy in your hand that will one day be discarded when you get that new princess doll one day.

My goal has never been to marry rich. Since the day I knew my heart beat for you, my goal was to marry someone like you.

Now tears are forming in my eyelids, and I can't really see the letters very clearly. All I know is I want to be in your basement watching friends as you put me on a pedestal.