Thursday, February 3, 2011

& again it was failed.

I've attempted to write you more than once.

It always starts out with the same lame line, asking how you are, and how the mission is.
I always want to apologize for my lack of letters, but it never comes. The letter always ends there before it ends up in the trash.
Tonight, it was longer. Then I doubted myself and crumpled it.
I'll admit it, I'm afraid.
I'm afraid of you.
I'm afraid you will remember the awkward 14 year old girl who followed you around quite obviously.
I'm afraid you will remember that one time that you caught me shaking in your presence.
I'm afraid you will remember me as a nuisance.
I'm afraid you will remember when I was lovestruck, in awe with you.
I'm afraid you will remember what a creeper I was ( and still am, what?)
But most of all, I'm afraid of what you will think now.
Now, I've mostly got my shaking under control, I'm still awkward, and sometimes I'm a nuisance. Something keeps telling me to write you, but each time I try, it ends up with the garbage.
I have to wonder, how can you still do this to me, even from another country?
That's power.

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