Please don’t tell me.

I think I can live with it if only you don’t say the words. It’s not like I don’t know that I’m not good enough for you.

Every day I watch you walk through this world with your kindness and your determination. If I am in town, I walk beside you even. I walk you to work, bring you lunch sometimes, walk you home, crawl into your bed. I know every facial expression, every quirk, every part of your body, every scar, every sensitive spot. No one knows you as well as I, and you remind me of it often enough, smiling at me and telling me how glad you are that I’m here with you.

I know you, and that’s why I know that I’m not good enough for you. I know that the fact that when I’m not in your bed I’m in someone else’s hurts you, I know the fact that I can’t keep my eyes only on you every day hurts you, and I hurt you, sometimes… in ways I wish I wouldn’t, but can’t seem to help.

You know me, and that’s why you never tell me. You let me believe that it’s okay, that you’ll be fine no matter what happens. Like you don’t mind finding senbon in your couch cushions, never knowing whether I’ll just stop showing up, or that sometimes when the nightmares have me I’m not gentle with you. You let me believe that none of it matters, that somehow it will all work out and we’ll be happy, and you walk around with me as if I were someone you could be proud of, as if I were good enough.

It’s not like I don’t know it’s a lie, but I think, for a little bit longer, I’ll believe it. If you let me, Ruru, I will. Just a little bit longer...