I’m not really sure how to bring this up, but I’ve been sitting with this feeling since the other day, and I think I need to say something. Lately, there’s been this quiet hesitation in my gut, something telling me not to give you these letters just yet.
It’s not that I don’t want to share them with you. I do. That was always the intention. But something inside me keeps wondering… if maybe you’ve mentioned these letters to Kevin. I know that might sound unfair or even out of nowhere, but given how recent everything is, and how open you and Kevin are with each other about so many things, it’s hard not to wonder. Maybe it’s just my overthinking, or the emotional residue from what we’ve been through. But the thought alone makes me pull back a little.
The last thing I want is for someone else to know these letters even exist, let alone know what’s inside them. These are incredibly personal, raw parts of me. They aren’t just words, they’re pieces of my heart, and the idea of anyone else reading or even being aware of them feels like a deep violation of that trust, trust that already has cracks.
That said, I still love the process of writing them. It gives me space to clear my mind, to process what I’m feeling, and to work through the things I might not always know how to say out loud. Maybe one day, when it feels right, when I feel fully safe in doing so, I’ll print them all out and give them to you. Every single one.
But for now, I think I need to hold onto them a little longer. Not as a secret, but as a step toward healing, clarity, and eventually, deeper trust.
I’m sure at some point you’re going to ask about the letters again. And when you do, I’ll tell you the truth, I’m still writing them. I haven’t stopped. I’m just not printing them out or handing them to you right now.
My mind still spins from time to time. It races back through the messages I read between you and Kevin, and no matter how much I try to push them aside, I can’t quite shake the feeling that there may have been more between the two of you than you’ve shared. I’m not saying this to accuse you or stir up conflict, it’s just what lingers in my heart.
Knowing that you loved him, and that the two of you remain so close, pulls at something deep in me. It creates this quiet tug I can’t ignore. A sense of unease that flares up from time to time, especially when certain memories resurface. I’m doing my best to move forward, to let time and love do their healing. I want that healing, especially as we step toward marriage, and everything we’re building together.
But if I’m being honest, there’s still something about your relationship with him that feels unresolved. Like a door that was never fully closed. Maybe it’s just a shadow from the past. Maybe it’s because I know how deeply it cut me when I found out. Or maybe it’s because I saw things, pictures, words, that I never should’ve had to see, and they left marks I’m still trying to smooth over.
I don’t want to keep carrying these feelings silently, but I also don’t want to weigh you down with them constantly. That’s why the letters have become a quiet space for me to process all of it. A place where I can be honest with myself, and eventually with you, when the time is right.
I love you, and I want us to be stronger than what we’ve gone through. I believe we can be. I just need you to understand where I’m at, and why I’m not quite ready to hand these pages over yet.
I think I finally understand why this whole situation with Kevin has been such a strong emotional trigger for me. It took me some time to connect the dots, but today it really hit me: it brings back memories and pain from my past, specifically from my marriage to Vickie.
Looking back, I never realized during our marriage why she was always on Facebook Messenger, or why she would walk away when she was on the phone. I chalked it up to little things, never questioned it too much, until after she passed away. It was only then, when I looked back through her messages, that I saw what had really been going on. It hurt. It shook something in me that I’ve clearly carried forward without even realizing it.
You’d think after over 20 years together, I would have seen the signs. But love sometimes clouds your vision, and trust makes you overlook what you don’t want to see.
Now, I want to be clear: I know you’re not Vickie, and I don’t compare you to her. I love you for who you are. But this is where my mind tends to go when certain patterns show up, especially when I feel like someone I love is emotionally closer to someone else. It’s not about mistrust in you, it’s an echo of hurt that I hadn’t truly faced until now.
I also think about our conversations regarding Amy and Masson, and how Amy was emotionally cheating on Anthony. Those words, emotional cheating, has come up before, and if I’m being honest, that’s how your friendship with Kevin has felt to me at times. I know it’s not black and white, and I know you’ve needed someone to talk to, someone you’ve leaned on. And I don’t want to take that away from you. But that’s where the struggle lives inside me. That’s the tension I’ve been wrestling with.
There are moments when you feel distant, even just slightly, and my mind, without warning, starts imagining that you’re thinking about the life you might’ve had with him. And those thoughts hurt. They’re probably not fair, but they’re real.
Still, despite all of this, despite the noise in my head, the wounds from my past, and the fears I haven’t always known how to voice, you are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. You’re the one I love. You’re the one I choose. And I believe in what we’re building together.
Thank you for being patient with me as I unpack all of this. Thank you for letting me be honest. And most of all, thank you for loving me in return. I love you. Deeply, completely, and always.
Drifted Notes 