I always have this feeling of desperation. I want to tell you everything. I wish I could tell you everything all at once and have it make sense but that’s impossible. I tell you so very little and I’m afraid that I’m shooting myself in the foot when I do.
I love you. You know this. In my heart I want to do everything in my power to be with you. Everything in my mind too. But doing everything in my power must include a contingency plan if being with me is not what you want. It’s all wrapped up in a sack like the kind you take to a camping trip.
This is a very important part of love; the ability to let the love of your life go on without you. I can do this. I know I can. It might kill my insides. It might rot my heart until it is soft and brown like the mud made by an incessant rain.