A thought in the dark.

It’s not all bad.

I know I’m not perfect—more on the side of broken. I know I do things that can be annoying or irritating, not intentionally. I’m not the best, but I’m working to be better. I try every day.

The thing is, I’m real. I’m not trying to be anything or anyone other than myself. I’m honest. I make mistakes, I have flaws, and there are things I need to work on that I don’t even realize yet. But I’m open to being shown, and I’m committed to changing.

I don’t want to stay stuck in the same cycle for years and years of my life. I don’t want to waste time—mine or anyone else’s. If we aren’t growing and challenging ourselves, then what are we doing? Just sitting stagnant. What good does that do? Who does that help? Nobody—except people who are also staying at that same level, not trying to accomplish anything.

I’m trying. I want to make something of myself—and for you. I want to be able to provide for you and see you happy, forever in my arms, in our bed. That’s a dream I’m going to make reality. It’s my objective, my goal. And when I apply myself, I succeed.

I am worthy of having a good life—with you as my wife. A home to call our own. A comfortable, stable environment that can’t be taken away for some stupid reason. Something I can have pride in.

It’s okay—I get it. I will persevere and continue to overcome these obstacles. It’s the best I’ve got, and it’s more than what most people bring to the table. I fail, I get back up, I fix the failure point, and I move forward.

I have a heart of gold, and I love deeply. I understand more than most. I’ve realized that I can move too fast, and that it can feel smothering to people. I understand that now. I see things I was blind to before.

I know I’m a lot—but I think I’m worth it. To me, I’m worth it. I’m loyal, dedicated, loving, affectionate. I’m a protector. I have morals, manners, standards, and sense.

I miss hints and signals sometimes because of my autistic tendencies. I don’t mean to—it just makes life harder for me. Sometimes I get down and feel like there’s nothing I can do to change things, but that’s not true. There’s always something that can be done, even in the most hopeless situations. Maybe it makes the failure bigger, or maybe it prevents it altogether—who knows.

When it comes down to it, I’m scared to fail you. I’m scared that I won’t be worth your love anymore.

I’m tired. I’m stressed. But I’m working through it. Struggling, but still making progress.

It’s hard when there’s a wall of behaviors that need to be addressed. When you feel cut down at every corner. When it feels like nobody appreciates you. When you feel overlooked, unseen, or uncared for.

When I think of you, so much emotion comes over me—it’s overwhelming, but in a good way. So many thoughts flash through my mind, and all of them say the same thing: love. More than love—so much more than words can even begin to explain.

The way I love you, the way I care, the things I would do for you… I promise there’s no one who would go to the lengths I would for you if you needed it. Not that I want to be put in that position—but I would, without hesitation, if it meant protecting you.

If you knew how much this all means to me—how I see it as my future, as the path I’m meant to take. Time may not be on my side, but I’m trying to make it last forever. I want nothing more than forever with you.

But this will probably never be sent, read, or received. It’s too raw, too real—and it might just push you away more. I don’t want that.

I know I need to take things slow with you—steady and calm. No reactions, no flare-ups, no raised voice. Almost no emotion. Just consistency and gentleness.

It’s like a treasure map to me—kind of encrypted, still leading to something valuable, but with so much unknown along the way. I can see the goal, and I can see the path, but I’ve never experienced anything like it. I’m both scared and excited.

I’m humbled—and I’m scared.

I can admit it: you scare me. I’ve given you too much power over me, and I’m trying to take some of that back. But still, you have the ability to hurt me deeply.