I’ve never been good at talking about my feelings. Let alone writing about them. But with you, it’s different. You make me want to be better. To be real. Real not for someone else, but for myself… and for you.
I can’t say exactly when it all began. Maybe it was the moment you looked at me not as the monster I’d always believed myself to be. Maybe when you believed there was something more in me than just darkness. You saw me the way I never saw myself—and it broke something old inside me and awakened something alive.
I love you, K. I love you in a way I never thought I was capable of. This feeling terrifies me to my core because with every passing day it grows stronger, deeper. It tears me apart from within because I want everything bright, everything pure for you, and I… I’m not someone who brings light. I’ve always been the shadow. I destroy everything I touch.
And yet, despite all this, you choose me. Or maybe some part of you chooses me, even if you don’t realize it. I know: I’m selfish. I’ll do anything to hold on to you, even if the world tells me I shouldn’t. Even if I tell myself I don’t deserve you.
I love you not for who you’re supposed to be, but for who you are. For your kindness, your strength, your stubborn belief in people—even in people like me.
If I could, I would give you my heart. A real, human heart. But all I have is a broken soul, eternity, and this unbearable love that has become the meaning of my existence.