To the girl in my dreams, I write this letter to my thoughts.

Pretend all you want, but those other guys don't know you. I do.

I've listened to the painstaking words that made you wince as you told me about yourself, your life unedited. I know you're lost right now, and you think you know what you're doing blindfolded. That you tried to have a religion, but prayers weren't answered fast enough so you left instead. That you mold yourself to belong to the different people that temporarily settle in your life so you can close that gap of unfamiliarity.

I know you, not your job, not your talent, not your service. I recognize your mortality, how vulnerable you really are, and your failed attempts at masking your hurt. From a distance I've observed your feeble quests of going through cycles of different friends, beliefs and no matter how much it hurts me: your want for different guys. Please, stop and look around. They aren't here for you. I am.

I understand you like no one else will. I understand that you leave for no reason because of how people in your past have left you. I understand your feeling of abandonment in this world, that you're by yourself. I understand your feeling of being alone with no one to care for you. But I do care for you.

I like you for who you are, your faults, your mistakes, your sins and your darkness. I just wish that you had stayed around long enough for me to tell you this. I will be here for you with an unconditional guarantee.

This is my confession.

Anonymous online confession