m.
11:01 a.m.

this is a letter from a girl. to a girl.

you love me, you hate me. why is it always so complicated? do you honestly think I don't wonder what might have been? or what could be "if i did this", or "if i did that"? because i do.

but it's hard. and it only leads to disappointment. because we both know, it will never be. what good are dreams?

i'm afraid of you. you love so easily, so openly. how? how can you do that? i don't even know how. that's not true. because i do, but I just can't bring myself to show it. maybe it's easier that way. maybe because if i don't show anything, you won't know when it hurts.

and i know that hurts you, even though it shouldn't. because i do feel. i do love. i just hate for you to know that. now it's harder. now i've said it, and i didn't want to.

i'm hard on the outside, but that doesn't mean i am on the inside.

damn it. this sounds so stupid. but you do understand. don't you?

i. am. afraid.

i don't know what else to say.

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