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Dear E,
I remember when I confirmed that I was in love with you. The butterfly feeling I got sitting under a stupid oak wood tree with you. I was too tired to sit up on the hill, so you sat down with me near the road. It wasn't the best spot, but we were watching the sunset and I asked you millions of questions. You answered them all, without hesitating.
I remember how hard my heart was pounding that night, and the way my head was spinning when I laid in bed that night. I remember smiling like an idiot in front of my mom, but not telling her why. I also remember telling her that I would never date you, and that we would only just be friends. Now it's a year later and I get to sleep in your bed.
You don't say I love you a lot, and that's ok. I don't need to hear it, because your actions show it. I know you love me. I know you hate saying it because of how you were raised, so you prefer to show it. That's perfectly fine, because I know you do.
But I also know I need to start saying I love you more.
Because I know you were going to try committing again. I know that's why you were on my doorstep at almost midnight having a breakdown. I know that's why you promised me to not ask anymore and that you'd tell me everything else forever. I know that's why you hung your head shamefully and shook when I was hugging you. But I also know that you know I'm smart enough to figure it out.
You just don't want to say it out loud.
I love you.
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