I'm always so worried. Why do you always have to worry me? I sometimes think that it's about getting enough attention, or not getting enough attention. I care about you so much, and if anything is love, this is it. You say you don't deserve my love, but after two years, I still have no idea why you think it matters that you deserve my love. You have it, given freely. I wonder how you would have fit into the time period of the clothes you like so much, since then, women married a man who could support her, and a man married a woman who would raise his children. I don't mean the children thing, there were families that didn't have children, but it was still an expectation that the man be the breadwinner. If I had more money, would you be content with my treating you like a queen, or would you still feel worthless? I want to cherish you, I want to place you high on a pedastal. Is that it? Are you afraid of heights? I can make it a low pedastal and walk on my knees to have the same perspective.

No, I understand. You need to be meaningful to yourself, and you're not. What do you need to do? I feel like you trap yourself in a paradox, because you judge yourself by your standards alone, and yet you have to succeed in a social world. You beat yourself up for not being good enough to be in a play, when it isn't you that failed at all. Second best still loses, and you make no distinction between second and last. You aren't last, you aren't anywhere near last, but because you aren't first, you feel last. What part of your childhood taught you to be this way? I almost think that when you began to lag behind in the race to success, you gave up entirely, because there is no place except first place. That is the standard you set for yourself, and yet for everyone else, you realize that first place isn't necessary. You never push me to get the best job, just a good job that I'll be happy with. You always encourage your friends to try again when they fail. Your smile has been a symbol of hope to me, and yet it has often been faked, a lie behind which you hide the fact that you have no hope for yourself. Why do I have hope and you do not? In one year, you will have a bachelor's degree from a good school, enough to find a good job somewhere (though finding a job may take a while, it does for everyone). You claim you have no training in what you want to do, but do I? I have nothing except my desire and my ability to think, two things that I know you have too, even if you think you don't.

It frustrates me so much that you are blatantly lying to yourself constantly to avoid trying, and so avoid failing. If you tell yourself you can't do it, then you won't try, and you won't fail. It's the same way you always tell yourself that you wish you had lower expectations. It's not the expectations that are the problem; it is the attitude toward failure. Love, I know that it hurts to lose, I know it hurts to fall behind, I know it hurts to be second when you wanted it more than the person who came in first. It doesn't mean that winning is impossible for you. It doesn't mean that you should lower your standards, but work harder to achieve them. I know; I lower my standards in terms of my coursework, and it hurts inside every day. I lower my standards about dancing, and it hurts. I lower my standards about writing, and it hurts. I lower my standards about taking care of you, because its easier to let you push me away. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts so much that I never want to try again. I sometimes feel that if I could give you hope, give you a reason to try again, it might be my reason too. I want you to be my reason, and it's selfish of me. If you had hope, you'd be such a catch. You're funny, pretty in a quirky way in your face and a classical way in your body, you're so soft and huggable, you can always start or join and continue a good conversation, your interests coincide with things that boys are interested in, like drama and games and music, you have a beautiful voice, both singing and speaking (versus anything obnoxious to the ears), you're affectionate and willing to gently try to improve me (versus just criticize until it changes, or guilt-trip me into changing), you want to be successful on your own and not a mooch to a successful man like too many women, you don't need expensive gifts all the time, and you know that money can't stretch very far so you won't be financially irresponsible, and more that I don't have time to write. What am I? Someone whose ideal is to be working a job he likes most of the time, and be left alone to write a lot, or when invited to parties, to just enjoy the atmosphere without having to be any part of the center of the party, who can't dance unless it's ballroom, and at that I'm too strong a lead sometimes, who is cute but makes strange sounds and smells and throws sticks and collects bad art and almost every kind of music imaginable? Right, and you say I'm the catch. I have to go.