Dear everyone who has expressed doubts,

Before you go onto a tirade of ‘you are too young’ and you never see each other, hear me out. Chances are you’ve already aired your opinion once before, but feel the need to air it again. For some reason, you don’t think my relationship is tenable or sustainable. Maybe you don’t want to see it sustained. Either way, you question it. Please allow me to explain myself. Whether you accept it or not after this, I don’t care.
Billy is unique. I don’t know how to put it, but it’s like the word love didn’t mean anything before I met him. I don’t hang onto him for fear I’ll leave him, and I don’t fear he’ll leave me. He’s something entirely different. Maybe I’ll get hurt. It’s something I’ve considered before. But if I get hurt, it won’t be because he did it intentionally.

Another point is that out of all my myriad relationships, platonic or not, he is one of the few which I have had to worry about the least. I have many relationships that are emotionally taxing and draining on me. He is a shelter, of sorts, and I can rely on him to call me when we schedule it, to talk to me when I need it. There’s few things we hide from each other. I don’t know. It sounds strange explaining this, but he is home.
If he hurts me, then I’ve hurt him just as much. If we hurt each other, it’s not intentionally. If it doesn’t work out, we both put our best effort and we were sincere throughout. I love him. I genuinely do believe there’s a ‘forever’. It’s a new thing that I thought was only read about in stories and goddamn I hate sounding like every mushy heroine ever but I understand. I CAN SEE FOREVER….but genuinely, I understand them now.

So yes, I won’t get to see him. My school thinks I either made him up, or he’s cheating on me or I’m cheating on him.  I probably could have slept around with half the school during this time period. But I haven’t, and I won’t. There is, in short, nobody but him. And I realise I’m not a great girlfriend, or maybe even a good one, but I hope that for all my failings he loves me.

I’m not going to pretend our love is ~the purest~. We disagree, he thinks I feel to compelled to solve people’s problems. We hate, I swear, he is my better part, he is better than me. He is my love. I could write pages, I’ve written poetry, I’ve written letters, everything, but it is summarised — however imprecisely, by the word love. At last, overused and not said enough, I love him.

I genuinely do. So much so. I want to marry him. I don’t care what you think, or what your sanctimonious judgments are. I started this out neutral and I can’t keep that tone anymore, because really, who are you to judge what makes me happy?

So here is my diatribe. As said before, I only needed to explain it. Whether you accept it or not is entirely up to you. I have said my piece.

Regards,

Abbey.