Dear Love

14 Nov

Hey, love.

Saturday you said to me, “I think I love you.” I said nothing. I stared at you, and I said nothing. You looked at me with your puppy-dog eyes, and I said nothing.

You should know why I said nothing. Here goes my lame excuse: My initial thought was that song. You know, the one that goes, “I think I love you, so what am I so afraid of?” That one. I couldn’t very well sing to you after your confession of love. And my next thought collided so suddenly with my emotions that I couldn’t get it out. By the time my thought was coherent, I was already too close to crying to say anything.

My second thought, love, was this: You can’t love me. If you love me, then it’s okay for me to love you. And if I love you, I just get hurt when you up and leave me for college in a few months. I feel too young for this right now. I’m sixteen. I don’t much need this love. In short, I’m afraid. I’m afraid to love you – afraid to love at all – because I’m afraid of being hurt. I allow myself to get hurt too easily, and I’ve wasted too many of my teenage years being sad and hurt to waste anymore.

But in all honestly, I do love you. I’m not sure I’ll ever admit this to you, but I love you. I love you so much. I hope you know without my having to tell you.

Much love,

Your babydoll


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