A lot of complete sentences to finish and incomplete thought that may have hurt or surprised you.

I have said all of these things to you in a half a dozen incomplete thoughts, but when I am alone, when it is just me and the monitor and keyboard, I can tell you everything, even the things I know you don't want to hear.

Like the fact that I really like you. And I knew I would. I also knew that this time would be different. This time I wouldn't cry. Or want you. Or make you into something you're not. This time, I took you for what you are worth. A decent guy with a quiet way who just likes me.

But now you don't "just like me." Now you don't just want to hang out with me sometimes when the mood strikes you and delight in my company or get bored of it and drop me off when you're done. Now you don't just want to chat every now and again and introduce me as just me and talk to other girls at bars with me a a security blanket.

Now you really think I'm something. Now you really say meaningful things to me. And you compliment me. And you are proud to take me out and talk me up and share me. Now you love me. And you are making propositions to love me for more than just today. For more than just the great quiet times.

But what if you don't?

What if I lose my luster?

What if I lose my mind?

What if when I am no longer this cool unfeeling quiet controlled woman you realize you never really even liked me?

So what?

So I really like you, that's what. You are so different than what i expect from life and love. You aren't a tiger, ready to pounce with passion and grief. You aren't a bear, cuddly looking with a fierce hunger. You certainly are not a fish, flaky and dry. I don't know what you are. You're a Boy.

A Boy I really like. A boy who I want to see happy. And well off.

What if you being happy means you not being with me?

I know, I've said that before to you. I have told you and cried my one tear and moved on. But you don't know the me before you. I me that was scared to be alone. And needed to cling to the idea of someone greater than I thought I was. Someone who would carry me and protect me.

You know the new me. The timid but awakened me. The me that can read people and who knows what she sees, even the most evil, is true. The me who has learned the difference between KNOWING a person is truly worthy and good at heart and BELIEVING that the best of a person.

With this new found self worth and agenda, I no longer need someone like you. I can now truly just want someone like you. Someone who isn't afraid to just be with me. Someone who doesn't own me. Or restrain me. Or need me.

The new me is also much more realistic. So what if we're not in a love to write home about? So what if we don't spend every waking moment together or wanting to be together?We are still a valuable asset to each other whether we have to be sitting close enough to touch or not. Whether you say at every moment "I love you more than soggy peaches."

Realism is sometimes disappointing and messy though ,isn't it? Being realistic is saying to yourself "There are things about me that this person hates. And there are things about them I'm not too fond of." Realism is compromise. It's realizing that no, you can't always have every quality in a person you like.

Life is the often times never ending search for that one other person for which you provide the necessary means for homeostasis.

That one other person whom you don't excite into a fluster, or sedate into a stupor. The person who you don't wait up for, because they are always home when they say they will be. Not the person you trust with your life but the person you trust to take you out next week and kiss you softly and say "I'm glad to see you. Let's go get a drink"

Real life is knowing that you are free to go. And i am free tog o. If things get too messy or too hard or just plain uncomfortable or boring or if you want something more or less out of life, you are free. You are free to love me as much and for as long as you would like.

I am free to see the insanity in holding someone forever. The utter silliness in the idea that there is that one person to whom you should shack your piece of life to and become one with for all eternity. Call it jaded, call it dismal, call in unchristian. But I don't expect you to love me and only me forever. I'm no longer blinded by my need for validation through another.

I am me and you are you and as long as we work out, we will keep this train going.

And, by having said all of this, I hope with all my tiny can-do heart, I hope you know how much I do esteem and value you. How much I want for your happiness. How much I see in you. How much I love you.

But I love you with a grown up heart. A battered, war-torn, sometimes sad heart. A heart that needs nothing but itself to evolve, but wants your heart near to compare notes, see the same pictures from different points, to hold.

I do love you. And I am excited to be in love with you. But I should hope I would never want to own you.