There are things that I write that I'll never have the confidence to say. These are some of those things. I could never say these things to you. I don't know why, but I know exactly why.

This is why: you don't want me to. I respect that. As much as I hate it, I respect your wishes. I know how you feel because you told me. Now, there is the possibility that I misunderstood, but you haven't corrected me. I can only sit back and watch as you make your way through this world. You are meeting the people who will be a part of your life. You are doing what makes you happy. It probably won't matter if we talk daily, or if we don't. I can't help but want to be your friend. Will this friendship ever grow for you? I'm not holding my breath. I will only support you. I will only be there as you allow me to be.

I'm not saying you need my help; I just wanna be there for you. I care about your past but only because it made you who you are. I care about your future because I want to only see a smile on your face. I care about your present because it is your current location in life, which has been the location your past has brought you to and the location from where you will create your future. Everything about you makes a friend I want to have in my life.

I don't know if this is selfish, but I don't believe it to be; I believe it to be rather self-less. I doubt. I doubt myself. I doubt my perceived intentions. I am full of doubt in the face of silence. Silence of the things we don't say to each other. I doubt more than I want to, but the doubt creeps in. My doubt stems from my past, but in the present, I am able to quiet those doubts. I am growing because I am working. I am here. I see you. I care.

Love is a verb. I choose to love you. I made this choice because of what I see inside you. I sometimes use words that are so bland and cryptic that they could only be thought to mean more. To me, you do mean more. That doesn't matter. What does matter is that you're safe, that you're secure, that you're cared for, that you're loved, that you're happy, that you're given the gifts you deserve, that you're the one who the world rotates around, that the world will recognize you as the sunshine that warms every room. You may have doubts, you may have fears, you may have thoughts, you may be secretly sad, you may cry at times, you may get that look on your face that something has affected you to the core, you may want to do more but get stopped in your tracks, you might be all of these and more. I am here to tell you something you already know, it's all okay, I'm here when you're ready, If you ever need a place to go, a safe place, a loving place; I'm here to hold you when you're sad, I'm here to inspire that beautiful smile, that sparkling smile, I'm here to hold your hand, I'm here to take you to Starbucks when you need coffee in the morning, I'm here to be your friend. The problem with all this is that you're there and I'm here. Take all of this to mean, I'm there for you. I'll be there when you need a friend; I'll be there, I'll be here, I'll be wherever you are.

I write sometimes for you. I write sometimes because of the conversations we've had. I write sometimes to create something for you to have, to hold dear, to not read, to maybe find some level of comfort. I'll love you how you want to be loved. The love you want may be none at all. Okay. I'll love you like that.

I ask the question of when we choose to love someone, why would we give up and choose otherwise. Romantic love can fade, but the caring lasts forever, deepening as we share moments and memories we make. The little things cannot be allowed to blind us to who we choose to love. They cannot be allowed to blind us to who has chosen to love us. If they make a different choice, we must accept that and choose to love them in the manner they desire. It's the little notes, the feelings we inspire, and the choices we make that are intended to give love. Any turbulence cannot be allowed to crash the plane, but we must allow them to deplane and allow them to move on. The heartfelt romantic love only goes so far. It is what we do, the work we do, growing together with that person. It is not a series of whomever is present in that moment. We can go, we can do, we can be free, but we make the choice to return to the one we care for, the one who cares for us, the one who we long to be loved by. This is trust in one another and respect for one another. Trust, action, and love. But the fruit cannot grow if we cut down the tree every time the wind blows.

Just because we, ourselves, are a work in progress, we are not precluded from loving another, from allowing another to love us. We can be broken and whole at the same time. We can be broken and still love another. We can care for ourselves and for another. This is not the caring that means to take care of. This is the caring that means we want the other to feel cared about, loved.

Do not misunderstand my words. Do not misunderstand my intentions. Do not misunderstand the source. Please understand that these feelings may fade, but the love does not fade. The loving kindness, the well-wishes, the desire to show love, give love, that does not fade.

When your father takes the effort of bringing food for the ladies he loves, he is happy because he is allowed to love. Would his happiness be the same if his acts of love were rebuffed? I can't answer that for another, I can only answer it for myself. And I'm still struggling with an answer. I look to the lives of others for inspiration in my own. If I had written something for you and you don't respond, if I gave my all for you and you chose not to accept it, if I loved, showed loved, gave love, would I continue to give the love? It's becoming obvious that I would, because I do. I give the most precious commodity of them all, I give what is most valuable, I give the rarest of possessions. I give you my time. I decided you are worth it, and I chose to give to you.

I propose this question: Is it worth it? To this, I answer a resounding Yes! What happens next?

This is Learning Made Hard.