I’d never tell you this. My pride aside, I worry and wonder myself to madness.
I worry I’m not good enough for you; I wonder what it is that made you stay all these months.
I pull away. I lie beside you in silence because I know the tears will begin to stream the moment I utter a word. I withdraw myself from you for a day or two.
You think it’s something to do with you, you think it’s something you said recently. You wish I’d just talk sometimes.
Maybe even scream, to let it out.
And here I am, writing it in yet another letter I’d never, ever send to you.
Sometimes I think of leaving – not just you, the town as a whole – to start over; but this was me starting over, in a place far away from home. I even think about going back home.
There’s only so many chances you get to start over, to escape. And I got mine.
Maybe it’s my escapist tendencies or underlying insecurities or fears creeping from previous relationships.
I wish I could be like her – the one who deserves you, the one who is more than enough. Maybe she’s brave, and bold, and doesn’t let emotions drive her. Maybe she shows she cares and says ‘I love you’ fearlessly. And you’d like her, for everything she’d give you that I couldn’t.
I hope you know, I do too – I love you. I hope you know I try to be who you should be with.
But I’m crumbling underneath this disguise.