What I told you was true, when I told you what I told you. I was scared to say it, now it's out, and I meant it, what I told you when I told you.
And I wanted, very badly, for my voice to be more rounded and not as whiny as it was, but the words came and that's just the way they were.
I told you to do what your heart really wanted you to do: it was true; I meant it.
But it wasn't what I wanted to say.
He told me not so long ago that I have a keen sense of duty, and I'm sure that's what it looked like, one girl standing up for the others, but I was taking my own advise. I said everything just for me. Because if you were with him, you couldn't be with me and you couldn't be safe, so I told you what I told you just to tell you something without having to say anything I was really sacred to say.
I think I tried to tell you while we were waiting, or I think I tried to tell myself, that even though I was scared to death it was nicer than it had been for a long time to be with someone soft and shaking. I could see our fingers matching up against each others, and mine were a little smaller and yours were a little stronger. And maybe if we pressed them long enough, he wouldn't come back and they'd wait for a while and it could just be a safe and sleepy time for us both.
Maybe I wanted to try, so I came out and told you in that weird way that just sounded like pleading.
Sometimes that's all I've got, and it always does the job. We got some bumps and scratches but we both came out okay because at least I told you what I told you even though I wanted to say more.
And I guess it doesn't matter since I'm leaving you without trying one more time to tell you what I wanted to say.
I wanted, very badly, for one of them to keep my heart from finding someone I can't have, but it found you and that's just the way things are.
(I love you.)