My love,
Every night since I fell for you, I’ve wondered through my mind and to the darkest thought of all. This deep thought, I’ve known him for a while. He has always circled through my mind, slowly floating above the surface. He is not just a thought, he’s a plan. He’s not evil- no I can’t say that, but he sure isn’t a hero. I created him, formed him to what he is now, I know he has good intentions, because his intentions are mine. You may wonder why I’m discussing this, and in such a bland generic way. I often wonder if I should tell you the details of such a horrific plan. You would wonder if it was sanity or insanity that lead me to this. Personally, I think it was something in between. The thought of revealing such a stomach turning, gut wrenching plan kills me. I’ve burned myself with the thought of telling you for the past two years, but then I’d see your lovely smile and I’d feel sicker than ever. When we’ve been alone, and silent on tear drenched nights I must admit that I felt so god d*mn numb that the un-coherent sentences almost stumble out of my mouth but the silence just breaks from more of my tears. Some nights when I cried with what seemed to be no meaning, was really a bloody battle with the plan consuming my thoughts, everything becoming grey, the plan torturing me until I reveal it to someone else. My mind fights back, tucking it far back away, my body knows what that plan is, and it wants it to stay. When I’m struggling to win, I hear your sweet, innocent voice, and I remember why I’m really fighting this battle. I don’t want to hurt you- f*ck –not again. A pain like this, for someone as fragile as you? No, I refuse. When I think about telling you, I imagine you crashing down, falling like a broken dam, and that isn’t what I want. Some nights I wonder if once we build our life more and more, if you’ll take this plan away. Maybe your love will save me, but I don’t have any expectations. It’s not like I want this with a burning passion, but I don’t want to give it up either, I just don’t want to tell you. The pain this would cause you is scarier than being caught on fire, not being able to put it out, but to constantly burn, forever. The thought hovers over me like a full storm cloud, and I don’t have an umbrella. If I ever tell you--
(I cut the end off because I really don't want anyone to know my plan)
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