I probably shouldn’t have gone through that notebook of yours that I found that you started ten years ago. I promise that I was looking for a blank one to use, nothing more. I should have put it down.
You are an incredible writer. You are such a beautiful songstress; I don’t understand how the world hasn’t found you hiding on small stages across our city and plucked you from the squalor of it all to put you front and center.
I am so glad I’ve never heard any of those songs in fruition. I get so scared. I don’t want to lose you to your own memory. I get it, I really do. She came into your life; rather, she had always been there, hadn’t she? I’m so fucked in like, seven thousand different directions. What happens if you read those words and you get those feelings back and then you realize that I don’t bring you anything that intense? What happens if no matter how much I try to be so good to you that it’s not enough?
Do I push you away without realizing it? I worry that I’m too erratic for you. Don’t, don’t, don’t get me wrong, love. You have been so beautiful lately that sometimes when we’re sitting in the sun, I thank whatever deity is listening to me that day because there’s no way someone so perfect is so willingly mine. I don’t want to sound pathetic and whiny, either. I am so serious, I thank everything that’s around me that you’ve chosen me, and I you. But if she saw you at your absolute worst, that means she got you at your absolute best, and what the fuck am I doing that doesn’t bring you to a better place than that?
I should be less afraid now. You’re saying everything I’ve wanted you to say. I shouldn’t have read those words. Even though each one was meticulously dated, I can’t help but think you’ve got those words tucked in your heart and your head and your muscles and bones, tying you together to make you the person you are today. Do you have words for me? Do you think I’m worth those? Do you only write them when you’re sad, and if so, do they exist for me? I don’t want you to ever feel the way you did in your past. I want to go back and shake you; make you see that further down the road I’ll be there to hold you and love you. I am so afraid you don’t see that. I don’t want to lose you to your own memory. Stay here with me. I’ll take care of you if you let me. Please just let me.