I don't think that you'll ever understand
how hard it was for me to write that letter
, how many times I tried, in the dark of your basement
, to tell you through your hair, with my head buried in your shoulder. How many barriers of fear
of the human race in general had to be overcome for me to even begin to think those words.
I don't know if you even believe me, then or now. I mean, I was young ... hell, we both were. I'm pretty sure that I didn't even know if I loved you, but that those words were as close as I could come to this enveloping, frightening, throughly new experience.
Three years later, I know that I meant every word, more than even I knew. I know that you were my first love, and (so far) my only one.
I know that I'll always wonder if you meant what you said, if you really did love me or if you were so afraid of hurting me that you didn't know what else to say.
And, while I cannot get beyond those doubts, I want to tell you to never doubt the sincerity with which I spoke those words.
I wish that I could tell you this, instead of writing it into a goddamn database. I wish that you could hear these words without freaking out, but instead, I will subject many of the unknown on the Internet to read words that I never wanted anyone but you to hear.