I’ve never lied to you. Always been honest. Never really held back. More than I really ever have with anyone else. It took me much longer with the people before you to get to the level of honesty and openness I have had with you. And yet there’s still this one thing I can’t bring myself to tell you.

I want you to pick me.

Knowing every complication, every hurdle, and every mismatch personality trait I still want you to pick me. I made my choice the minute I made eye contact with you and haven’t been able to shake you since. It’s a weird feeling for me. Because of how I feel about you, you haven’t experienced the detachment and distance I’ve always kept with my lovers. There have been only 2 other people in my whole life that have reached into me the way you have. Without trying. But I can’t bring myself to tell you that. I think it’s because I’m afraid it will overwhelm you. It overwhelms me. I know it’s not my job to manage your feelings and yet I hold this single truth back from you. Pick. Me.

Maybe I don’t tell you because I’m afraid you won’t. But I’m not sure that’s getting me anywhere either.

I am crazy about you. I’ve told you a hundred times that you can have whatever you want from me. Whenever you want. I leave my phone on ring when I sleep for fear of missing a stray message from you. I check my phone sometimes just in case I actually slept too deep. They never come. They’re never there.

Your sideways comments sit with me for days. The good and the bad. The back and forth. I’m never certain how you really feel about me, just what I feel coming from you. And even that I second guess. We challenge each other in every way. We butt heads once during every interaction. At least.

I still choose you. Maybe that makes me a hypocrite, going against every belief I have about being with someone. But maybe it goes right with it. My feelings for you make me uncertain of everything. I’ve never been here. I’ve always been certain. Now the only thing I’m certain about is I cannot get you from beneath my skin.

I worry that I am your “poor mans version” of someone else you once loved. Is that my insecurities talking? Or is it the truth? I’m not certain. See? I lost all certainty the day I met you. My rules, my guards, and my mind must have just decided to get lost that day. And they haven’t returned.

I don’t even know what this letter will do, if you’ll ever even see it. Maybe I’ll be brave enough to send it to you one day. Most likely not.

I want you to pick me, but the risk of you not terrifies me.

The wild part? Even if you didn’t, it still wouldn’t change how I feel. One day I’m sure it will go away eventually, if still unreturned. But if you told me tomorrow that you pick someone else, I’d go on feeling from a distance until it all becomes a memory.

So I guess all this is just to say, as clear as I possibly can, that I want you in EVERY way a person can want another. In all the ways I’ve ever felt before and in all the ways I don’t even know yet. So when you wonder what it is I want from you, just know that I want you to pick me too.