Il m'aime.

If I were a braver girl than I am, I would tell you just how much I love you. How I have been crushing on you for the past 9 years, waiting for the day when I thought you might return the feelings.

And now that I feel like I can't possibly hold my feelings in any longer, I find I am in the unpleasant situation of being married to someone else. Not to say that I don't love the man I am married to, but that I have so many unresolved feelings for you. Feelings that I was always too much of a coward to go on.

I think back on the e-mails we shared when we first became friends. I remember all the moments we spent together and I think, with painful clarity, that maybe you did have feelings for me at the time, but didn't want to express them since you were so far away. A world away and older than I.

I feel so stupid now. Stuck with feelings I can't seem to get rid of, no matter how much I tell myself I should. And I have countless poems to you, countless feelings written into so many words and I can't tell any of them to you.

Too Much Credit

You give me too much credit. More credit than I feel I deserve. I try not to argue with you, because I know that you are complimenting me. I know you feel the praise is deserved. I just wish I could see what it is you see in me.
And I wish we could be a bit more than we are. And I wish a great many things.

In the mean time, for today, I'll let you praise as much as you want. I won't argue with you.

I'll say "thank you."

A Gift.

Its hard, Aunt Peggy, to accept a gift.

You told me all the time to just accept it, it wouldn't break you.

Its hard to accept a gift when you feel like you don't deserve it. Like, you are so unworthy of the gift. I want to be able to accept gifts, Aunt Peggy, without any guilt attached like a card on a ribbon.

I wish the gift you had given me was more time with you, instead of learning the lesson  you meant to teach me while you lived. I think I've finally learned though, as hard as that is. Its a lump in my throat, Aunt Peggy.

So I'll stifle the guilt, I'll fake a smile and say thank you. Because maybe that person needs to give the gift. Like you felt you needed to give gifts to me. I knew you loved me without the gifts, Aunt Peggy. I hope you know I loved you too.

Its the same as lying...

I just can't deal with the emotional upheaval you cause me.
If you tell me that you are going to do something, DO IT.
If you aren't going to do something, TELL ME. Don't feed me a fucking line.
Telling me you will and then you turn around and don't is the same as lying to me.

You'd think I'd have learned by now. You'd think I'd know better than to believe you, but I don't apparently. I'm a stupid girl who puts her faith in you over and over and over and over. Far more than I should. Its not just that you let me down. Its not just that you change your mind.

Its that you say one thing, but you do another.
Its that I was looking forward to these things. I had put my hopes into your hands and you threw them on the ground.

And you know, it was your fucking idea in the first place, so I shouldn't be this upset, but goddamn, I was looking forward to it.

You wonder why I don't ask you to do things with me. Go places with me. Etc.

You always bail on me. I can't trust you to follow through with something. There is always an excuse. Always. Sometimes, its a valid one, but more often than not it just comes across as a fucking waste of breath. Don't tell me you are going to do something and then not do it. Don't tell me that you are going to do something and then give me some flimsy excuse later. It isn't fair to me.

And its the same as lying to me.

Missing kind of Night

Dear Aunt Peggy,
There are not enough letters in the alphabet to express just how much I miss you. How much I want to tell you that I love you and that I am so angry that you died so soon.

I am angry that you just gave up. I am angry that I didn't get to tell you goodbye. I am angry that I couldn't do anything to stop you from going. Mostly, Aunt Peggy, I'm angry at myself.

I'm angry that I didn't visit you more at the end.
I'm angry that I didn't finish the "Indian Princess" story you wanted me to find and finish.
I'm angry that I have failed you.

I wish you were here. I wish I could hug you one more time. I wish I could just have a few more minutes to tell you just how much you mean to me.