November 8th, 1996
There’s an irreplaceable uncertainty in the things I want to say to you.
My expression is lacking, and my experiences even more so. I’m afraid that I’m much too much of an infant in life to properly express what you mean to me. Not that I won’t try—I will.
I should start by saying that I’m not enough for you. I never will be. I’m not meaning to put you on a pedestal; I’m just that far gone. Don’t be too alarmed though; I’ll try my best in spite of it.
See, you’re something of a high for me. I think the best comparison is…childhood?
Well, it’s no understatement to say that my childhood wasn’t perfect, but there’s a warm sincerity in the way life seemed back then. I trusted adults so much; I believed in people. I believed in love. I believed in second chances. But the most foolish notion of all was that I thought other people believed the same.
But, back to you. You remind me of that warmth. That special thing that is lost to time. Hope. Purity. Faith. Love. You see, I’ll never be carried to my bed again if I fall asleep in a car. I’ll never get a special lunch before going into school late. I’ll never have anybody take my shoes off for me or help me put them on. And I know nobody will ever put my safety above their own.
But you make me feel like none of that matters. You make me feel like there’s something better. You make me believe that whatever it is, it’s all in you. So I feel if you’re around, then I don’t have to long for days that I’ll never see again. If you’re here, life isn’t so crummy.
No matter what beatings I take, I can grin and bear it just so long as I hold on to hope that you’ll be just what you need to be. Oh, you won’t have to go out of your way.
Just be you, the way you are. That’ll be enough for me. That’ll be more than enough for me.
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