Letters to a Future Love No.17

Dear Mr Maybe

I cry every day.

Every. Single. Day.

Not loudly or for all that long, but I internalised so much for so long that I’m just too full and tend to get a little leaky sometimes.

It’s a thing but it doesn’t have to be a thing.

Will you be frustrated and impatient with me, like all but one who came before you?

Or will you let me hide my face in the hollows by your collarbones sometimes? Will you let me take tiny, shuddering breaths against your throat until the scent of your skin overpowers the bitter taste of my sadness and I can breathe a little deeper, a little easier.

Will you be there, solid and real, to give me something to hold onto when I’m reeling?

I don’t need you to fix me, I’m not asking to be saved. I just want your patience, your understanding, your quiet, steady support while I fix myself.

I promise you I’m trying (to do better, to be better) but I’m not there yet and I really hope you’re not waiting til I am. As strong as my best friend tells me I am, I don’t know how long I can keep fighting without something to fight for.

I wish I were enough of a reason, that I could look at myself and see something worth fighting for, but I’m not and I can’t.

I only know how to see myself through someone else’s eyes.

Will you look at me like I exist?

Will you look at me like I’m enough?

Will you look me in the eyes and say those 3 little words I’ve been slowly dying to hear?

3 little words to make the world something I don’t have to face alone.

“I’ve got you.”

Will you keep saying it until I’m not crying anymore?


(someday? always?)




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