How do you argue with that?

By the end I suppose it wasn't an argument at all. I was just saying, "yeah" and "ok." I wanted us to be ok again. I wanted it to be unbroken. I felt like I was staring down at my Benita cut blanket again. It would never be the same. . . but there it was, still lovable, but not right.

I wanted you to know how I felt, and just before I worked up the nerve, there you were, cutting off my first word to tell me you had to go. I guess I just feared that I thought that we were really important, but that you didn't feel the same way.

When you listed the three things you were sure about, it was such raw truth I did not know how to handle it. Even though you probably would never ask, I thought I might let you know that if I were to make a list of the things I am sure about, it would be as follows:
1. I will be a dentist. I don't know whether that will make me happy or be what I truly want at the end of my life, but I will be one.
2. I love sunsets, fresh air and running.
3. I love my family and friends.
4. I love you. I want to be with you.

You are so important that you are a quarter of the things I want. . .

I guess I just felt so safe with you, but you are unreliable.

I just wish you would have let me say what it is that I wanted to tell you, before you so quickly hung up the phone and left us.

What I was going to tell you is this:
'We may argue, or fight, or hate each other momentarily, but at the end of the day, I know that I love you. I love cuddling with you and feeling safe and every night now I dream about you. I dream about laughing with you, about talking with you, just being physically near you and not several states away. But even if you hurt me, I know that you didn't mean to, and the that you still love me, maybe more than anyone else ever has, and no matter what happens at the doctor's office tomorrow, I will be here.'

I don't know how you feel about me. You are sleeping now, and I am sitting awake wondering what's going to happen to us, or if you will ever really hear me again. And I'm scared.