A Letter to You

Dear You,

There are so many things I want to say to you. So much that I appreciate you for and want to thank you for. There is so much about you that I love. I want to tell you – I want to shout it at you. I need you to know about how my brain works, and then the serene difference of how it works when I'm with you.

It just makes sense. It just feels natural with you. I don't tell people about my BPD because of the stigma associated with it and the reactions that I get, but with you I felt safe. It made sense to tell you, because you're the only person in my life who hasn't heard about it and pitied me, sat confused, or flat out ignored it. You're the only person who's taken the time to do anything about it – not my parents, my family, my past partners, or my friends. You sat and you researched. You spent hours asking questions so that you could understand me – how my BPD affects me, comparing it to your readings, worrying about every little thing. You don't try to fix me, just understand. You still ask. You still make sure I'm comfortable and I'm okay. You still support me and make sure that you are actively trying to understand every step. You're along for the ride with me, even when I try and leave you at the platform, you just force yourself back on the train.

You still haven't given me a reason not to trust that safety I feel, to trust how comfortable I am with you, to trust you wholeheartedly. It takes all my courage to not run far from you, to pre-emptively get out of this before I lose you – before I get hurt, but more importantly, before I inevitably hurt you. I'm so scared. I don't want to lose you. Friend, favourite person, more than that. I can't. I refuse. You always tell me that I mean the world to you, that I'm important to you, that you care about me, that you hate when I'm hurting – assuaging my doubts and my fears. I want to tell you that the feeling's mutual. That I want to take any pain away from you. That all I ever want is your happiness. I especially never want to cause you any pain. I never want to hurt you, and having had partners in the past, I've never felt the need to protect them from that hurt before – not until I met you. You keep me in the moment, in my happiness, grounded, but when I'm left alone with my thoughts, I know there's no way you can find happiness with me in the long term. I'm so fucked up. I have so many issues, sometimes I don't even know them myself. You tell me you have issues too, that you have flaws too – and I know that my mind deals in absolutes, that you're unable to do any wrong for me, that you're as close to perfect as possible and any flaws I find I will accept at once. I also know that my issues are too much for me, that they'll be too much for you. I don't feel I deserve you. I don't feel as though I am worth this for you.

I haven't told you yet, that I love you. I've told you that I've fallen for you. I've told you about how attached I am to you. I've told you I like you – how much you mean to me. "I love you" feels so hard to say to you, because I never want to hurt you, and those words make it all the more real. I'm scared. I'm scared of what my feelings mean. I'm scared to let you know because I'm worried that I'll scare you off. Most of all I'm scared I'll hurt you. I don't want to lose you, love. Your presence in my life has healed me more than you will ever know. I need to thank you. I need you to understand, but I never want to burden you with this responsibility. You are my happiness. You are the light in the darkness of my reality. I'm a lot of effort and a lot of work. I am issues upon issues. I am fears and doubts and worry. But I am eternally yours.

Love always,

Me.