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[This letter appears to be wrinkled and slightly torn, as if the writer had crumpled it up and flattened it out multiple times before sending it.]
Dear Alhaitham,
Dear, Alhaitham,
Dear Alhaitham,
It’s hard for me to know how to respond to the letter I recently received from you. I will try, though vulnerability does not things like this do not come easily to me.
I was most certainly surprised to receive a love confession from you in the form of a letter, perhaps more surprised at the “love” part than the “letter” part, but at the same time, it seems like just the sort of thing you would do.
In that very letter, you describe me as “willing” to wear my heart on my sleeve. I am willing to do that, and I do, in some circumstances, but I often think that you are overall better at it than I am. (Possibly the second time I admit you have me beat. Don’t expect there to be more.)
Although most would not describe me as “guarded,” the majority of what I express to the world is much more of a performance (or a facade) than it might appear at first glance. If I’m angry, if I’m loud, if I’m passionate, I’m safe protected.
No one gets to see the softer parts of me. Those don’t exist. They’re not real.
Softness is not my forte.
I think what I’m trying to say (in a very roundabout way) is that I’m sorry I apologize for whatever I wrote in that last letter I sent, so many weeks ago. I don’t remember the content of it, but I remember aiming to hurt. That was protection, too, even though it sounds backwards to phrase it that way. What kind of a person hurts others to protect themselves? I’m sorry. You don’t deserve to be treated so poorly. I’m really sorry.
Anyway, what I’m also trying to say is thank you. For seeing past my bullshit and baring your soul to me despite how hard I have tried to push you away. I know it must have been terrifying, to expose your soft core to someone who’s all sharp edges and covered in spikes.
I don’t think I’m really worthy
I am not an easy person to love, I know that. I want to be better. I am trying to be better.
Thank you for doing it anyway.
Perhaps one day my edges will soften and my spikes will become dull. In the meantime, I would ask you that you be patient with me please try to be patient with me.
I am only now learning to love properly, and maybe it’s too late to start now but it has always been you. You, with all of your gentle care disguised as casual indifference, because you know me better than I know myself. I am a broken person. I may not be wired correctly, but you know just how I operate. I can’t imagine anyone will ever take your place in my heart, and though my hands shake with fear, writing these words to you, offering this window into my soul, my conviction remains steady and unyielding.
I hope to be home soon.
Love,
Kaveh