All my unsent messages are here.
Dearest,
I wonder if you, too, tried searching for your name on the SendTheSong website today, looking for any unsent letters addressed to you from an anonymous sender.
While I don’t know for sure, all I can do is assume. But if perhaps,
If perhaps all you want is to find love in those messages for you, I just want you to know:
My Medium is a vault full of my love for you.
If you ever care to read it.
But I've learned my lesson. My love feels alien to you. You treat it like a weapon that’s about to hurt you. I wish I knew how to love you in the right way—the gentlest way possible.
If I were allowed to ask which part of my love threatens you, I would. But every time I try to show you how deeply I love you, all I feel is your defensiveness.
Maybe we simply have different love languages. Maybe you don’t see it as love. Or maybe it’s as simple as you wanting a different kind of love.
If my love is wrong, darling, if all these unsent letters look like knives to you, if my words drown you and make you feel unable to breathe, then please, let me make it as simple and straightforward as I can:
H, I love you.
Always.
