To the one who has my heart~
I write this confession for my own selfish purposes. Written words are easier, for one. I could never say the things I need to if I had to look into your eyes as I did so. And even if you never read this, at least it won't be crushing my soul any longer.
Where do I begin? For now I sit under the open sky, and I let the wind wipe the tears from my cheeks, and I allow the sun to dry my eyes. I cry alone, away from the questions. And I don't have to lie this way, because everyone else would hear "I'm fine." And I am not fine. Besides, how could I explain to them that you are the reason I cry?
How can I explain it to you?
Because it's true. I have cried so many tears in such a short span of time, all because of you, but for now I am empty. So instead I pour out these words, hoping I can better understand for myself. Hoping I can make you understand. I do know that it hurts to love you –
Oh, God, how it hurts.
And so I cry. My heart is breaking ever so slowly, but it does not bleed. Yet. Not until the final fissure cracks its delicateness. Not until the day you finally walk away. Every day that passes, I know we are ever closer to goodbye. That knowledge alone is nearly enough to destroy me.
The worst of it is that I would do so much to keep you in my life. But even if I were to fall to my knees and beg you to stay, I know you wouldn't listen. Because I know that I'm not worth that much to you. I don't matter enough to have you change your life's plans. So I won't cry and beg. I will let you go, because I have not the entitlement to do so otherwise.
But I do hope that if – when you leave, this nightmare that plagues my mind will disappear with you. The nightmare where you walk away and I run after you. But I never get closer. And I'm screaming your name and saying those important words – I love you – over and over and over.
But you never hear me, and you don't come back.
And, of course, the worst is the silence. Who knew the absence of words could speak so much? It mocks me, torments me. Because while I confess my love, you never have.
In all likelihood, you never will. Because you don't love me. Of course not. I'm not worth that.
This nightmare wakes me up, sweat on my skin, salt on my lips, eyes burning. So when you go, take the wretched thing with you.
I don't know how much more of this I can take, even when I am happily beside you. It hurts to love you – but it hurts so much more when I consider not loving you. That invisible knife, wedged in my gut, twists at the thought and I can't help but feel sick.
Sometimes I want to break it off, but I love you too much and I am too selfish. I want you with me, as long as I can hold on.
So there it is. My soul is lighter, though my heart still breaks. I'm not crying now, for I'm too numb and I have no tears left to do so, but I think I will cry tonight. Or tomorrow. I know I will. And I will cry because of you . . . but that doesn't mean I love you any less.
I will be here until we say goodbye. And we will kiss, and I will watch you walk away, and I will say nothing. And then I will go home and cry over the piece of my heart that you will always have, and I will pray that you keep it safe.
And I will wish and I will hope that one day you will return to dry my tears yourself.
A/N: This is written more as a Hermione-to-Severus letter type of thing, but I really think that it can be applied to any relationship that follows the pattern. "Girl meets boy. Girl falls hard. Boy doesn't even stumble." *Wry grin* So, review please! Makes me happy. Thanks for reading!