15th September 2016,
My dear love,
I’m sitting down writing this letter because of a writing project I started. You have to write one letter every day and the first one is addresssd to your loved one. It took forever to be written and forever to be edited, because I wanted the perfect moment to take the pen and start writing.
I thought about it for days, before finally sitting at the desk. I reharsed what I wanted to say in my head for a hundred times, tried to prepare myself for this moment. Truth is, there is just this moment to do it, to write. Waiting for it to be perfect is just a way to exorcise my fears. I don’t know what to expect from this.
I love you. Very deeply, to the point I think that part of myself developed around this love; now nestled at the centre of my being like a precious jewel. It really is the best thing I have in my life and I still can’t grasp my mind around the fact that I love you and you love me back. It seems so…it is wonderful, of course, but it also seem something like a dream, or a fairy tale. How can something so beautiful like you be real?
In the past months I tried to explain to you why is that I love you; I believe you deserve to know and when I understood it myself, I was caught in this state of euphoria, like a scientist that discovered a pretty big secret of the universe (I’ going to work on these metaphors, they suck a bit). I wanted to make you part of this feeling.
Every time I tried to spell everything to you, however, I couldn’t really spit it all out. I worried about breaking some sort of spell. So I guess this is all about your curiosity, now. If you too believe this is something that ought to stay hidden, you may stop reading now.
In my life I met a lot of people and most of them can be pinned down into two categories: those who wanted me to be slightly different (to better follow their standards) and those who put part of me or a part of my personality on a pedestal (and still wanted me to be in some way for their own benefit).
I either talked too much, was too self-conscious, knew far too well what I wanted, spoke too openly or whatever. I can count maybe two or three people in my life who never cared about my worth in relation to what they could gain from me. Especially in a romantic sense. Whoever I met either wanted me to shrink into their own definition and frame of who I am or seemed fascinated by some part of my character that I still can’t identify (although I’d like to, so if you have guesses to make, I’m more than happy to hear them out).
Not you, though. You were the only one to love me simply because I was a person, I existed, and I mattered just because of this. Despite my flaws, my insecurities and my darkest moments, you never stopped to look at me with those eyes full of earnest love. You never asked me to be different for you, or tried to make me your “ideal” or whatever.
You encouraged me to become a better person because *I* would’ve been the one benefiting from this. Instead of sewing me a dress to wear, you let me cut it out for myself. And this is the most beautiful thing that could ever happen to anyone: to find someone so compassionate and loving as you are.
I fear I’m not nearly as good as you are in this. I don’t think I’m always capable to be so caring and affectionate, to be supportive every time you need it. Sometimes I feel I’m not enough for myself, let alone being enough for someone like you. Someone who loves me so much, someone that in the end I don’t think I deserve. But I’m trying. I’m trying to be more like you, in this. I want to learn from you, I want to be able to give to you all the love you need. Because you deserve it all. You deserve every kiss, every hug, every snuggle, every caress. You deserve it, and need it like a flower needs water. I want to be your water, I want you to bloom and be the radiant and beautiful human being that you are.
I love you, always and forever.