Dear Darling

1 May


I love you. I can’t say it yet, I don’t know when I will be able to say it, I don’t even know if we’ll last long enough for me to pluck up the courage and say it. It’s only been three months, and I know it. I want to wait to tell you, to make the moment special (even though I know you hate having planned special moments). I made the mistake earlier in life of telling a girl I loved her far too early, and it ended poorly for both of us. I don’t want to make that mistake for you. I want to keep you, hold you, kiss you on the nose and hug you tight at night.

I think maybe that’s what makes this so hard to write. I know there’s probably nothing to worry about. We’re probably fretting over nothing. I’ve got to tell you though, never have I ever experience a longer month than this one though. But hopefully we’ll make it through without an addition to our lives. Please don’t mistake me, I would love to have a child with you. You’re perfect in every way. But not right now. I know i’m not ready. You seem to be, but I’m not. I guess that’s sort of selfish, caring more about how I feel than how you, the one who would take the brunt of the “punishment”, feels, but I can’t help it. You tell me I would be a great father, but I don’t want to be. Not yet. I want to go to college with you, I want to move into our first house together, I want to make love all night long and hold you in my arms after. I want to make you the happiest woman on Earth, but I don’t think I could do that if we had a baby. Not now. Not yet.

Every night I lie awake dreading the lack of your period at the end of the month. We’ll have to explain it to our parents. Yours will probably take it the worst; my sister was unplanned, after all, so it wouldn’t exactly be new to my mother or father. If it comes to that, I’ll be there for you when you tell them though. I’m not leaving. This is our child, not an accident. I want to raise him or her with you, regardless of the circumstances. We’ll find a way.

But that doesn’t stop me from praying to anyone who will hear me, every night, that you’re not pregnant.



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