I keep a list.

I keep a list of things about myself that I think aren't worth loving.

I keep a list of things about myself that I know you couldn't possibly love.

I tell myself that this list is the reason we will and could never be.

I secretly hope that you'll somehow find a way to love me in spite of them.

Even though right in front of me I have someone that not only loves me despite them, but loves me for them.

I keep a list in my head of the millions of questions that I need answers to that I cannot answer. A list of the things I worry about that's burning and burning in the pit of my stomach, that keeps me awake at night.

I keep this list.

But I'm beginning to think it's just my way of keeping you.