Dear Unlikely Hero,

I love you.

… Now that that’s out of the way, I can move on with this nonsensical rubbish. For as long as I can remember knowing you, you’ve been there for me. That’s not something I can say for many people. I never understood why I began to crave your attention… And I couldn’t stand it when you were disappointed with me — or rather, with some of the idiotic things I’ve done and said.

Regardless, you took on the role of my personal therapist. I’ve spoken to you about things I didn’t dare tell anyone else. Stranger yet, you’ve listened. You were – and are – open to my ranting and my rambling and my whining. You rarely turned me away, you offered advice, and you’ve challenged my thoughts and fears.

You’ve helped me so much; more than you know. If not for you, I wouldn’t have survived. I know it’s sappy, cliche and over-said, but it’s the honest truth. I’d be somewhere far worse (or I’d not “be” at all, if you catch my drift) if I hadn’t met you.

And I know I probably shouldn’t, but I feel as though I owe you so much more. I have never been able to fathom what you see in me. I know when you read this, you’ll probably tell me I’m being stupid, but it doesn’t change the fact.

I’m shy and timid to the point of being antisocial; I’m oftimes a clumsy dunce;  I’m socially awkward, especially with new people or People-I-Know-But-I’m-Only-Just-Now-Meeting-In-Person; I’m not as pretty as most girls; I’m quiet and not very outgoing at all; I must have the worst sense of humor to ever grace (or curse) a young woman; I don’t think I’m a very “touchy” person – in fact, I may very well be terrified of physical touch; my family is absolutely insane (in good and bad ways, but I can’t help that, can I?); I have a dozen suitcases stuffed with my own issues and fears; I’m needy when it comes to care and attention, but stubborn when it comes to helping me; I have a distinct lack of confidence; I’m an artist and a writer (need I say more?); I suffer from enough anxiety attacks in a single day to last four people half a week; I’m indecisive, and abnormally so; I seem to have a penchant for getting in trouble; I suck at conversations over the phone; I’m fairly volatile and beyond “moody”; I’m dumb enough to pick at all the itty-bitty wrongs with myself; I have a tendency to freak out at the tiniest of frustrations; and I actually wasted your time reading this and my time writing it.

… I’ve utterly forgotten where I was even going with this, now… Oh well. I’m sorry ahead of time for any agitation or facepalming I cause and uh… Yeah.

Sincerely yours and with much embarassment,
Megan 

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