I’ve been trying to reach out to you lately, and you haven’t been responding. I don’t even know if you’ve been reading the messages. Maybe you think I’m going to be mad at you, that my ‘I hope you’re doing well’ message to wish you luck with your PhD application was just a ruse to lure you back so I can unload, or that ‘I’m ready to be friends when you are’ is a lie so I can do to you what you keep on doing to me. Maybe not. I don’t know.
What I do know is that I’ve been absolutely hopeless about you for as long as I can remember. I had never felt like that before about anyone, and I’m so scared I never will again, even if I’m not sure I want to. I’d still do anything for you, I still care so much about you, and it kills me to imagine that I’ll never get to talk to you again, that I’ll never be able to know you again.
And I don’t understand why, if you’re so upset about it all, you won’t talk to me directly about it even though I’ve tried so hard to make it as easy as possible for you.
I’m sorry I got so upset in December, but I’m not sorry about telling you that I was still in love with you. You changed me for the better, I think. You made me want to be the person you saw in me.
11:11 wishes were always our thing, and ever since I’ve known you mine has been that I hope you’re happy, including now. I know you’re not meant to tell people what you wish for, but it doesn’t seem as though it’s been working while I’ve been keeping it a secret either. I just wish you’d let me make you happy too.
I miss you more than anything, and I don’t believe in anything as much as I believe in you. You’re magnificent, and you can do anything. You’re the cleverest person I know, and I’m so proud to have known you, to be in love with you, even if you won’t let me back in your life. I’m scared I’ll never move on, because the minute you ask me, I know I’d come straight back.
I’ll love you always.