Dear you:
I look in the mirror and I see someone tired. All the coffee and all the sugar and all the oversleeping in the world doesn't seem to change that. I haven't gotten a decent night's sleep in I don't know how long. I wake suddenly in the middle of the night, in fear, because I dream of your lips and I'm falling, falling, falling back into you.

Dear you:
You scare me. You scare the absolute shit out of me. I'm araid of letting you love me, and loving you back. It will mean that, temporarily, I won't be alone and lost anymore. I'm afraid of what that will make me. I'm afraid of what that will make you.

Dear you:
I'm afraid that I'm not alone already, because that's all I know.

Dear you:
Just spending even a few moments with you, writing you a letter or sending an IM, blows my mind. Occasionally, I can even convince myself you care.

Dear you:
I am fickle. I change my mind a lot, but I've never changed it about you. You could be my everything, if I let you. We could run away together and not give a damn about what everyone else thinks. Holding onto that fantasy warms me, if only a little.

Dear you:
Lots of people have left me. People have abandoned me all of my life, from best friends to parents to that girl down the street. I develop connections to people and things I'm barely familiar with, because I think they're stable. I'm terrified of those people or things leaving or changing, even though I know they will.

Once, it even felt like you left, but I'm glad you didn't.

Dear you:
I think I may love you, and I have no idea how to tell you.

Dear you, who I left behind:
Fuck you.

Dear you, who still hangs on:
Stop holding on. Seriously. It's better just to call it quits.

Dear myself:
Learn to be happy alone, for your own sake.