We are so alike that it is almost painful to be around one another. Your eyes serve as a reminder of all of my flaws, as I'm sure mine reflect all those things you wish you could change about yourself. Perhaps that is why your response to my affections are to call attention to all of my insecurities and shortcomings, as if I wasn’t painfully self-conscious of them already.It’s a strange thing being in love with someone who is incapable of being loved.
It's stranger still to keep going back.
Forgive my bitterness. But I often wonder what purpose I serve to you other than being another diversion in a long list of diversions. Maybe there is no purpose at all. Perhaps I am dwelling on something that has never crossed your mind. But logic forces me to ask: why spend time with someone for whom you seemingly have nothing but contempt? I suppose I’ll never truly understand because the answer to that question is locked away in the recesses of that stormy mind full venom and acid you love to spew at anyone who dares to care for you.
I wish my purpose was to be the quiet in that storm… if only for a brief moment.
Sometimes I think I would do anything to see you smile, or at least expose a tiny crack in that armor to let the light shine out. I've seen it, ever so briefly, but I know that there is a sweetness that exists inside you that radiates when you allow it to shine. And I know if I said that to you, or you read it in this letter, my sentiment would be met with complete and utter indifference - which is why I will never let you read this.
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I will be whatever you need. You just have to let me.
But I know you won't.
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"Our first and last love is --- self-love."
- ancient Chinese fortune cookie
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