Prompt: Write a love letter.
The collective groans of the class spoke to the cliched nature of this free-writing prompt. My thoughts are quick to jump and pick her to write too, but she knows my love well with or without a letter. So, instead, I shall begin writing a letter for the person who probably doesn't know how much I love her. Who probably needs those words of reassurance and care more than she does right now. I love them both, but because I am secure with one, both of us worry about the other.
Do you know how many times I've started writing a letter to you? At least twice more than the letters I've sent, I can tell you that. And with so many, I started in my flirty, playful way. Innuendo would work it's way into the first paragraph, a light teasing that turned into a tender affection and a laughing promise. It started with our first little burst, but it did not die when that flame burnt out. The teasing continued long after that twig was ash, because there was still smoldering under the covering of dust. I've known you for longer than I think either of us really appreciate. And, in coming to know you, I've come to love you.
You probably don't realize it, but you've taught me so much that I never knew of before. I didn't know about art, about brains, about chemicals and crazies, about overcoming adversity to achieve adventure, about what it means to want to be treated like a person, what it means to be a person. I've always cared for others, but you taught me how to really care for individuals. You brought out the kindness and compassion in me, you taught me how to listen, to sit there, to simply be there for someone. You taught me all of this, because I wanted to do all these things for you. Because I wanted to be better for you. Because I love you.
Feelings are problematic, and I know they're causing problems for us now. But I wouldn't trade them for the world, because I never want to give up the feelings I have for you. I love you, Lizzey. And I don't plan on leaving that, or you, anytime soon.
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