dear brandon,

i know you don't want to see me right now, and i want you to know this: i understand. i've put you in a horrible position, i've blown things out of proportion (yes, i can recognise that now, though i suppose this may be a too little too late scenario), and i've said things that i know have unintentionally hurt you. let me take this moment, first and foremost, to say: i apologise. deeply, sincerely, and truly. i couldn't sleep last night (i suspect because you weren't there - do you think that's romantic or a bit sad?) and spent the whole night staring at the ceiling, going over everything in my head. i know now that it was awful of me to make quite the mess of nothing (i knew in the moment, too, i suppose, but i've never been very good at reining things in), and that it was even more awful of me to lash out at you over my own insecurities - that isn't something that should ever be put on you. dan, being the dear that he is, caught me after you left last night to calm me down a bit, and gently explained to me he's been seeing nat - which means i'm quite the ass, doesn't it? it's alright, you can say it, since it's very much true.

see, trust is a difficult thing for me, especially where you're concerned. i hate to admit it, because i never want you to feel like i don't love you or trust you implicitly, and i'm not sure i could ever really explain the things that go on in my head, besides. it's hard to accurately express most of what goes on up there, because it's hard to vocalise (i know you, of anyone, will understand that); it's even harder to want to vocalise it, because i feel like such a proper nut about it all. i suppose it mostly comes down to the fact that i've always thought you could do better - that you should do better - than me, and this: that you make me crazy, in all the best and worst possible ways, and maybe that's why it's so much easier to simply tell you 'i love you' and keep everything else to myself. i'm working on it. it's a terribly selfish thing for me to ask you to be patient with me, but, here we are.

because here's the thing: i do love you. like mad, like crazy, like more than anyone or anything else in my life. but that's the root of the problem, isn't it? i've never worried about losing someone the way i worry about losing you; charles is bound to me by family, minna to me by friendship. sometimes, i think friendships are easier to maintain than relationships, don't you? you don't fall out of love with a friend, not in the way you may with a lover. that, and i've lost you once; i know that pain, that unease, and it's been difficult not to worry about losing you again. i understand - now, more than ever - that that isn't fair to put on you, however, and so we come back to: i very truly, sincerely apologise. i was in the wrong, wholly and completely, and you will get nothing but understanding from me if you decide that you need a real, genuine break from this, from us, from everything. but know this: i love, love, love you, and i want you to know that i love you always, even when it seems like i don't (because i always will, really, just as i always have).

bronte says it far better than i ever could: “I have for the first time found what I can truly love–I have found you. You are my sympathy–my better self–my good angel–I am bound to you with a strong attachment. I think you good, gifted, lovely: a fervent, a solemn passion is conceived in my heart; it leans to you, draws you to my centre and spring of life, wrap my existence about you–and, kindling in pure, powerful flame, fuses you and me in one.”

i do know how you hate long, emotional things like this, though, so if you've made it this far, i applaud you and leave you with this: i adore you. i love you. always, always, always.

yours,
bea xx