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To the one I'll end up with,

Love is not easy. It never will be. So I hope that you can find your love for me in your heart, for when the time comes that your mind couldn't process your love for me, I know that your heart will.

Love is just not about happiness. It is also about sacrifice, compromise, and a lot of other unpleasant things. So let's make a very firm foundation of love, trust, and respect so that when the going gets tough, we will give it a good fight.

I hope that you won't give up on me. I do not wake up at the right side of the bed all the time. Believe me, I have mood swings and it will drive you crazy. The good side that you see often is only half of who I am. I hope that you'd stay when you get to see the other half of me and believe me, it is not pleasant at all. I hope that you'd understand my insecurities and assure me that you are mine. I tend to get jealous; not that I don't trust you, it's just that I am afraid to lose you, I am afraid of losing someone that I love, I am afraid of getting hurt. I am afraid of a lot of things and I hope you'd banish that fear. I cannot say all of the bad things about me, I guess, it is for you to find out and I hope that when you do, you'd still think that I am worth the stay.

Make me believe, please. Understand that someone broke my heart into tiny pieces and although I took my time putting myself all together, the scar will be there. Mend that scar. Make me believe in love again because, honestly, right now, I don't. Make me believe in love, make me want to love all over again. Make me believe that we could last a lifetime, because someone fucked up the meaning of "forever" for me. Give me a reason to wake up and look forward to each day, because right now, I don't even know why I need to wake up anymore.

I loved someone so much and I thought that person is my greatest love. Surpass that. Be the one who is even greater than the greatest love that I had.

I hope that when God lets you in my life, I am ready. I want you to come at the right time because I don't want to give you the burden of healing me. Trust me, I am trying to heal myself right now and I am not just trying, I am trying very hard.

And if ever you are meant for me, I hope you are meant to stay. I am already in the stage of life where all I want is something serious and something that would last.

And if ever you turn out to be the person who shattered my heart into pieces, my greatest love, I hope this time you already know my worth. I hope this time you are meant to stay.

“Anna, would you like some more tea?”

A stuffed lion, several worn dolls and a teddy bear with a missing eye sat in a congenial group on the attic playroom floor. The early autumn sun slanted through the little windows, making the air hot and still and illuminating the drifting dust motes. She picked up a chipped cup and poured the imaginary tea.

Downstairs her family was busy preparing for their departure. The furniture lay under white shrouds. The shutters were closed. Mother’s voice echoed through the house, ordering the servants to attend to last minute tasks.

“Violet,” she admonished, “You always eat too many scones.” The doll slumped in silent attrition. She poured more tea.

The trunks were loaded, the locks checked and rechecked. Mother and her brothers and sisters and the servants climbed into the four waiting carriages, amid much commotion, and rattled away. The sun was slanting low through the little attic windows and dusk was filling the playroom when she noticed the fading light, the unusual silence.

She stood up and listened. The house was quiet as the grave. She went to the window. The driveway was empty. She’d been forgotten.

She ran to the door, twisted the knob in a panic. It refused to budge. They hadn’t realized she was in here, her racing mind thought, and they had locked her in when they locked up the house. She beat against the door with her tiny bird-like fists, screamed, cried, but no-one came.

The playroom was almost dark now, her tea party guests indistinct lumps on the floor amid the growing shadows. She fumbled her way across the room until she found the doll cradle. There was an old baby blanket inside. She went to a corner of the playroom and wrapped the blanket around herself, a huddled, frightened ball. Eventually she fell asleep.

“The worst part about it all,” the docent says as he leads the party down the narrow hall to the playroom, “is that the door wasn’t locked at all.”

He turns the knob, throws open the door. He relishes this bit of drama, considers it a fitting end to the tour of the historic house. The visitors crowd into the charmingly antique room, furnished with relics from the past. A cradle, some teacups, a teddy bear with a missing eye. The late summer sun slants through the little windows, making the room hot and still.

“The knob was merely tricky, hard to turn. Sometimes it got stuck. The door was unlocked when they found her, poor thing.”

She sits in a corner, invisible. She waits to be found. When she is alone, she has tea parties.

Credits to: bottlerocket23

By Byron Kastilahn

Re: Your Biggest Fan

I’ll admit
This wasn’t my plan
But I’ve always been
Your biggest fan
It was a dare, you see
Email the actor
Of your favorite movie
They said,
“There’s no harm in tryin’”
And when I got your response
I was practically dyin’
But the content of your response
Your fiendish, conniving plot
You dirty
Dirty boy
“I can’t accept your love.”
You told me
“I’ve already got someone”
My good friend
My beautiful
Beautiful friend
Why did you respond
In the very first place
And I thought
“It must be a mistake.”
You’re playing with me
Toying with me
Being, “naughty”
I love naughty
Naughty boys
That’s why I’m typing this
On my Android
Right outside your house

Signed: Your Biggest Fan

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