I wrote a thousand love songs and sang them from my heart, but when I said they were all for you, you laughed and laughed and laughed.

I feigned hatred and disgust and anything else I could to keep you away from me. Not because I didn't want you, but because I wanted you too much. More than anything.

I'm afraid that I'll pour my heart out and instead of kisses I'll be hit hard with the harsh reality of rejection. I'm afraid that you'll love me too. I'm afraid that I'll hand you all of me and you'll see that I am broken. Damaged. I'm afraid you'll hand me all of you and I'll mess it up. I'm afraid you'll hurt me. I'm afraid I'll hurt you.

That's why I can't take us seriously. As soon as this gets serious, feels real even a little, you'll have all of me and I can't risk that. I couldn't take having my heart broken by you. It would destroy me. I can feel you trying so hard to get close to me, and I won't let you. Every night I go home and beat myself up, but I never change it. Never change me.

Instead of telling you this (like the brave person I pretend to be) I sit and think of you and I cry and cry and cry.