Dear Alex,
I'm sorry I left you, when you needed me most. I never promised you anything, but I still feel that I've betrayed you one too many times. I won't try to justify myself to you with logic, regarding why I left, because we both know the truth. It wasn't logical. It wasn't the drugs or the possibility of going to jail. It wasn't even the fact you promised to not ask me for anything and then asked repeatedly. It wasn't the dwindling amount of time we got to spend together.
We both know I was so ready for adventure and risk and danger and I would have gone to jail for it.
I was afraid of wanting to be your good little cooking and cleaning housewife. No, less than that. I was afraid to want to be your wife. I was afraid to want a future with you.
Even more bare than that?
I was afraid of going to jail for you.
I was afraid to commit beyond the present.
Afraid that if I stayed with you while you went through your mother's funeral, I'd never be able to leave. I'd never want to.
I didn't believe you for a second when you told me, time after time, you'd never settle down. Not even for me. I knew you were too scared to be vulnerable and admit that you would leave the drug game and be happy with a modest life- as long as you had me. You were afraid to say it and I used that to my advantage. I didn't want you to say it. I knew the minute you did, I'd leave you.
I think, on some level, you knew that too. I think your fear of losing me outweighed your conviction to never lie to me. And that hasn't changed has it? You lied again because you wanted me to like you.
I think what I'm most afraid of is admitting that what I'm most afraid of is losing you and what you're most afraid of is losing me.
I'm ready to let all of that go- I'm ready to admit that I want to be your wife.
I'm ready to admit that it was never about the adventure or danger or spontaneity.
It was about you.
Just about you.
Yours finally,
Piper