Fire.

Fire. It's possibly one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen. It burns without taking notice. It will rage on until there is no more fuel. It's dangerous. It's out of control. It's beautiful.

Love is a lot like that fire. It can be out of control. It can be dangerous. It can be beautiful.

What happens when that fire dwindles though?

Fire can't stay lit forever.

Is this metaphor even accurate in accordance with love? I honestly don't know the answer to that...

but keep on burning...

Regret.

I'm not perfect. He told me that I was, but tonight is a prime example of how I am NOT. I never claimed that I was, nor have I ever done anything that would make it appear so. I make mistakes.

Do you want to know what's really worrying me right now? To tell you the truth, I'm not worried about you being mad. I'm not worried about you forgiving me. I'm not worried about any of that. I'm more worried that you think YOU made a mistake... a mistake on me. Maybe you thought that I was some "ideal woman", and now I've turned out typical. A typical girl trying to figure everything out. That is what worries me. Maybe I'm not good enough for you? Maybe all in all, you did waste 3 months on me. Maybe waiting for me wasn't as fulfilling as you thought it would be. All these "maybes"...and no answer. If I tell you how I feel, maybe you won't tell me the truth in reciprocation. Maybe...maybe...maybe.

Only two words can fix situations like these. I'm sorry. And yet...it seems so inadequate.