To You,
The moon is high tonight, and the house is so quiet I can hear my own heartbeat. It’s betraying me, thumping out a rhythm that sounds a lot like your name. It’s always in these quiet moments that the truth gets too loud to ignore.
And the truth is, I’m in love with you.
It’s a terrifying thing to write, even here, where no one will ever see it. It feels like a confession to a crime I didn’t mean to commit. It happened so quietly. It wasn’t one grand moment, but a thousand tiny, insignificant ones that built something massive inside of me. It was in the way you smiled when you thought no one was looking. It was in the kindness I saw you show to a stranger. It was in the way you listen, really listen, like my words are the most important thing in the world. I’ve collected these moments like treasures, hoarding them in my heart until there was no room for anything else.
When I’m near you, my whole world contracts to the space between us. I’m hyper-aware of everything—the sound of your breathing, the way your brow furrows when you’re thinking, the specific shade of your eyes when you laugh. And oh, your laugh. I think I could live on the sound of it. It’s the most honest and beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.
But with this immense feeling comes an equally immense fear. It’s a cold, heavy thing that settles in my chest whenever I think of telling you. What if I’m wrong? What if I’ve built this all up in my head, mistaking friendship for something more? The thought of your face changing from warmth to pity is enough to shatter me. I’m terrified of that awkward silence, the one where I’ve said too much and you don’t know how to let me down gently.
I’m scared of ruining what we have. This comfortable, easy thing between us is something I cherish. To risk it for a “maybe” feels like the ultimate gamble. I would rather have you in my life as a friend than not at all.
And what if, by some miracle, you felt it too? A new fear rises. The fear that you would see the real me. Not the version I let you see, but the messy, complicated, insecure person I keep hidden. I’m scared I wouldn’t be enough. That you would get closer and realize I’m not who you thought I was, and the light in your eyes would dim.
So I’ll keep this here, safe in these pages. I will lock these feelings away in my ribs and carry them with me. I will smile when I see you, and my heart will do its frantic dance, and you’ll never know. It’s better this way. Here, in my journal, I can love you without risk. I can be yours without the fear of ever losing you.
And so, for tonight, and for all the nights to come, I’ll love you in silence.
Yours, only here. – P. ‘2025’
“If you enjoyed this letter, feel free to show some love.” https://beyondtheblog.org/power-the-next-post/
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