Unsent

I really don’t know what to do right now. Of course, my first instinct would be to say I’m sorry. But I’m really sick of saying that. I guess I just don’t know what to do with any of this because I don’t understand it. I don’t understand why this isn’t ending or why you don’t want it to or why you care so much. And I know that none of that matters because what this is is good. It’s really good. But I don’t know how to react to “good” because it’s what I’ve always longed for but never had and now that it’s here…I’m drowning in it.

So you’re right. I think too much. I take the world too seriously. But you don’t let me take it as seriously as I normally would, and that’s good, too. I really don’t know why I’m always mad at you lately. I don’t want to be. But I meant it when I said I hated you, only not in the hostile kind of way. It’s the way you make me reevaluate everything I’ve believed I am. I call into question everything—Everything. And all around me are things that you can’t see, that no one else can see and I ask them to fly away so I don’t have to look after them anymore because I know you don’t want it to be like that. I know it hurts you when I slip between the lines of this world and the one inside my head. To give that up means giving up something very precious to me, something I’ve never lived without, something that has defined me as a person, that has saved my sanity while stealing it away.

But for you, I’d give up all those words. I’d give up all those worlds and focus only on this one. I don’t understand that, either, but like I said before, whatever this is, whatever it is that I don’t understand that causes all these changes and upheavals, is something to do completely with you and I don’t want to lose it. I don’t want to lose it although my whole being struggles against it. And I never admit anything to myself. Especially things that confuse me and rewrite the code of my life, but this time the feeling’s too strong and time really is precious and flying by and I don’t want to waste it, although that’s all I ever seem to do. So I admit this: what makes me happy? You do. You make me happier than anything ever has. You make me happier than I’ve ever thought possible, more than I ever imagined possible. You do.

What do I do with that? Instinct says to run away. But the greater picture says something better. It says ‘stay.’ It tells me to stay. And I like that picture better than any other. I love that picture more than anything else. So do I hang it on a wall? Do I put it on a shelf and lock it up? Or do I live it? I want to live it. I want to live it. Because I keep asking myself that same question again and again about what makes me happy and the answer keeps coming back as you you you.