Help Me

Dammit. I don't know what to do. I don't know how you feel. I don't know how well you hide it. I don't know who you are. Not really. Not enough to weave silence into words.

There's lots of ways to feel close with another person. To feel connected. I've experienced so many of them and I'm sure there's millions more that I haven't even thought of. But there are certain ways, there are certain moments, in which I feel closer to you than I've ever felt to anyone in my life. And I don't even know who you are, and I don't even feel as if I can tell you about them. I don't even know why that closeness exists; I don't know where it came from, or what it means. I don't know you. I know that you feel it, but I don't know if you feel it, the same way that I feel it. As much as I feel it.

There are silences after those moments, silences that used to be comfortable and now are almost painful, because those silences didn't used to need to be filled. And now, I want to fill the silence, I have a fierce need to fill it, fill it with something simple and right and perfect- and laying there in a silent bubble I feel alone and agonizingly helpless. I mouth those words while you lay there, feeling my heart twist inside me, feeling that feeling you get before your eyes start to burn. I mouth them while you lay there, right in front of your face, over and over, praying you'll open your eyes and see, hoping you won't. Can't you see, can't you see, can't you see. Can't you see the way I look at you. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I hold you, in the way I tuck you in in the middle of the night, pulling the covers over your feet, your legs, your stomach and your back and your shoulders. Smoothing them down again, rubbing them lightly back and forth over you to try to warm you up, because it got cold in the night and I don't ever want you to be too cold. Not when I can warm you up. Can't you feel the feeling in the way I kiss the back of your neck, and I don't know how much longer I can stop myself from screaming the words, screaming the feeling out of me, I love you.

I love you.

I want to fill those silences, because now I have something I need to fill them with. It's not enough to just hope you'll understand, because you never do. And I understand that because I never do either. I never infer. I never connect deed to feeling in my head, afraid I'll connect them wrong.

I feel crazy. I feel right and I feel wrong and I feel completely and hopelessly lost. I want to tell you. I need to tell you. Every one of those nights that passes, every one of those silences, wrecks me further. But I don't know what you'll say. I don't know if you'll reject me. I don't know if it will ruin everything. God, I love you. I love you. Please.

And I don't even know what I need.

Help me.

I thought I was falling

I don't think I'm ready to be in love. I think I'm fighting it as hard as I can, and I'm avoiding it, and sometimes I'm even allowing you to believe that you're the only one who feels certain things, so that maybe you'll take a step back, so that I'll have to take a step back too. I'm trying so hard to protect myself because I know I'm not ready for that. I thought I was falling in love with you for the longest time. And now. I love you.

I love you.

You told me about something that hurt you when you were a kid. About having a parent that was too hard on you about the thing that you loved the most, and how it hurt you, even though you were great. You told me how there were soccer games where you'd walk off the field in tears because you messed up a pass and he'd thrown up his hands and walked away. That would be so hurtful to anyone, especially a small kid. And it's funny because that was actually the moment, last night, where I realized I am in love with you and I can't deny it to myself any longer.

Because when you said that, it did something to me. It hurt me so much thinking of you hurting, and feeling like you weren't good enough, kid you, now you, any you. I just wanted so fucking strongly to be able to go back in time to those games where you walked off the field crying and your dad was gone because he thought you hadn't played well enough, and I just wanted to pick little kid you up and wipe away your tears and hug you tight and tell you that I think you played wonderfully, and I think you're so talented and I think you're great, you're the best ever. That you're exactly perfect just as you are and that I'm so proud of you and always will be. And just hug you until you stop crying, hug you until you maybe even give me a little bit of a smile. Because I don't ever want you to hurt like that. I don't ever want you to think you're not good enough. Because I think you're exactly great just exactly the way that you are, and I am so proud of you just for being you because I think you're wonderful. And because I love you.

God. I love you, I love you, I love you.

It's so hard not to accidentally say it out loud sometimes. I've almost slipped a number of times already. It's so good to finally admit it to myself and stop fucking denying everything out of fear. God it feels good even to type the words. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you.

The many things I never meant; and the only one I do