BeTHy, aGaiN.
7:17 a.m.

Dear Bethy,

Here I come, writing to you again in anxious worry and excitable contempt.

I'm holding all these things within my trembling hands, offering them to you, but it's terrifying to know how wonderful and beautiful and intelligent you are. What can I say?--I'm intimidated.

I let you know about my cutting last night. I let you in so soon. I let you in before we ever actually went out. It's funny how I trusted you, and upon doing so, you instilled within me secrets of your past, as well.

I felt as if we were the only two people on the planet.

Therefore, I once more ask you to be merciful as I bask in your beauty on Saturday. Forgive me for staring into your eyes. Forgive me for loving you as you twist that same chunk of hair around that same finger in the same fashion as before. And forgive me for wanting to be with you.

With Much Gratitude,

Em

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