I hid this one in the hopes that you would find it long after I’m gone. I hope you find this, months from now, when I’m still out there, on the road, away from you. I can’t imagine what the time apart has done to us. I’m hoping we’re closer. I’m hoping we’re more in love than ever. I’m hoping that when I come back, you’ll move in with me. In all honesty, I’m hoping that when I come back, you’ll agree to marry me someday. Because that’s what I want, what I dream about. You, mine, for the rest of my life. I hope you feel the same…because I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you so much. But, if for some reason we’re not closer, if something has come between us, please, I’m begging you…don’t give up on me. Stay. Stay with me. Work it out with me. Just don’t leave me…please.

I love you, always,

Kellan

Agony filled my chest as I stared at the words that had just poured out of me. Agony, hope…and uncertainty. I couldn’t say this to her, it was too much…too needy…too overwhelming. Dropping the pen, I considered crumpling it up and throwing it away. Maybe burning it. It was going too far, even I knew that. And I was basically asking her to marry me in a letter, and I shouldn’t do that. We weren’t there yet, and…I wasn’t sure if that was even what she wanted from me. Just moving back in together sometimes felt like it was…unobtainable.

But what if…what if my fears about us were right. What if we had drifted apart by the time she found this? Maybe…maybe this outpouring of hope and pain could start to pull us back together. Maybe if she knew what my vision of our future looked like, she’d feel more connected to me. Or maybe I’d just look like a gigantic idiot.

Grunting in frustration, I put my fingers over the paper, ready to destroy it. But still…I couldn’t. I did want to marry her someday…and I wanted her to know that. I wanted her to know everything about me, even if it made me seem weak. I was weak after all. Barely stitched together.

With my heart beating harder, and my stomach churning like I was going to be sick, I added the letter to the stack of completed notes on my bed. Fuck it. Holding back my feelings from her had only ever hurt us. What harm could oversharing really do?