Three years. That’s how long I’ve known you. We talk a lot, we do a lot together. But it’s complicated. You think you know me, but you don’t. You think you know how I feel about you, but you don’t. I want to tell you everything. I want you to know that my father is a terrible person. That I’ve never really had a fatherly figure. That is, until you came along.
You helped guide me and watch me grow up when my father was never really there. For this I thank you. I want you to know that I love you and I always will. But I know about you. I know you don’t care about me as much as I care about you. I know when you see me that it’s just another small moment in your day; when to me it makes my day complete. I wish I could tell you. But I never can. I miss you when youre not with me. But youre fine without me.
It’s killing me. You mean the world to me. You ARE the world to me. But the sad truth is I am not your world. And that’s why I can never tell you this.