The cynical optimist

He took the pen in his hand and tried to calm the swirling storm in his head. The tip of the pen tapped on the page as he tried to find out where to begin, to say all the words he never said.

I am broken. He sighed and shook his head, ignoring the doubt and the fears of being raw and real for once.

I was broken and you healed me, I was unlovable yet you love me. I can’t figure out why or how but my god, I am incredibly lucky.

I wish I could say this to your face, to tell you the words i’ve always meant to say but I freeze everytime. Every time I go to say I love you I am afraid you won’t say it back. I’m afraid of so much, yet you calm me. You have always made me better, made me stronger. He paused again, the words suddenly blocked, the flowing words backed up by his inabilities, his doubt.

I-I love you. I love you…I always have, and I always will. You are beautiful, kind, smart, strong. You are everything I have never been, but everything I want to be. I love you, and I am so glad that soon enough, I will get to call you my wife.

He looked over the words and fought back tears. The storm in his mind settled and he stood up, and leaving the paper where it lay he went to bed. Knowing full well that in the morning he would throw it away.