Reminisce: Dear O,

May 3rd, 2015

May 3rd, 2015

        "Something happened last night that once again changed the dynamic between us. I woke to her writhing, as I have a few times before; normally I don't get startled anymore by this, and do what I know needs to be done. But this time she wasn't waking, and I realized as I felt her forehead that she was burning up. I can't remember the last time that I got sick, but Ophelia still gets hit with things every now and then. Her immune system is not like mine, but it is stronger than most.

       I brought her to the shower, running the cold water and getting in without any second thoughts. For half an hour I thought I was actually going to lose her, and thinking back maybe I should have brought her to the emergency room. But we can't... We can't be seen, we can't be asked for identification. So I had to handle it in my own way; she woke after what felt like hours, and she appeared fine after that. Slightly shaken, though not nearly as shaken up as I was, Ophelia showed me that she was okay in subtle ways.

         When we got out, I held her to stop her shaking; she was shivering and chilled to the bone. But in reality, if she got in my head, she would have known that I held on because I thought I was going to lose her. O, when you read these, I hope you know that I'm still so scared of losing you. I always will be; I'm sorry that you have to be my anchor, that you have to have that weight. Nights like last night, though, make me believe that part of being my anchor makes you feel like you have purpose. You have more purpose than being there for me, though. You could change the world if you wanted to.

       After I stepped out to grab O some clothing, she was completely naked by the time I came back in. While she is mesmerizing to me, I once again found my gaze only able to look at her scars. It's her HYDRA scar that she hates more than anything, but it isn't that one I find myself looking at. It's the ones I've caused that I see; or I should say, I used to see. Last night Ophelia... you told me something that helped defined me as a man, and as a human.

       I held her tight, but my hand touched her scar on her hip and she stopped me as quickly as she could. Normally, I would avoid touching her scars, avoid looking at them too long so that she might not see. Just as I imagined she looks at my arm, and glances away before I notice. But I was caught red-handed, and maybe I wanted to be, so that I could hear what you had been bottling up for so long.

        You told me not to see these scars as what defines me.

        I told you that they do. No matter what, I thought that they were what defined me.

        But once again, you've proven me wrong in a way that only you could.

       You told me what I needed to hear, that the scars don't define me. They don't make me what or who I am, and most of all, you told me that you didn't want me seeing only the scars when I looked at you. In some way, you told me that you wanted me to see you, and only you when I looked at you. Not the scars, not the history, not the violence and the chaos. But you. And I do, I understand now that I'm not doing a good enough job at shutting up the voices in my head, and now it's hurting you. And so from now on, I will work on that to make myself a better person, accept myself, and show you that I love you.

       I love you so much."