Before I begin I must confess: this is indeed another love letter to the special woman in my life. But whereas the other piece was drenched with sap, this one bears some tear stains upon the page, for I must make myself vulnerable here.

I cannot pinpoint the exact day when the insecurities started taking over. Maybe it was on the playground in the third grade, when the kids took turns kicking me into the mud. Maybe it was my senior year in high school, when my first girlfriend broke up with me after several months of constant arguing and sorrow. Or maybe it was this thing or that thing, or maybe it was nothing at all—but whatever it was I am stuck with the full weight of guilt I should not have carried, and the fear that I will never be worthy of someone’s smile. This wearying and lonely sense of solitude has carried me to the tender age of twenty-five going on to twenty-six…and it is now, when I feel as though I am drowning, that she entered into the broodish void and saved me.

I of course met her at college on a friend’s film set; I’ve told the story so many times that people can often quote the lines back to me. The point is that I can still feel every glorious breath of that day, and I cannot think about that pristine November day without crying tears of joy at the blessing this girl has been in my life. Her loving hands when she touches my face soon counterpointed by the cute smile that lights up her blushing face when I tell her for the hundredth time that I love her, give me the gift of purpose as I make my way to her arms. With such love in my life, what could be so wrong?

The full weight of depression doesn’t adequately illustrate itself until you see how it affects your relationships. She feels the heartbreak and the hurt every time I apologize for holding her hand too tight, or when I repeatedly ask her if she knows how much I love her. No person should have to suffer so much in the face of someone they love. I don’t know how she stands it at times.

For God knows whatever reason I’ve cobbled together this crippling insecurity, and now I am afraid of pushing away the one person who truly understands me. Nobody should have to be subjected to this. I don’t want the love of my life to think that she is the source of my pain. I should be better than this and I know it.

The other night I asked her if it was OK for me to love her. She shot me a cold look, and said, “I don’t need your permission to love you. Why do you have to be so difficult?” I couldn’t respond to this, I knew that she was right.

My depression doesn’t own me, but her love does. She found something of value within me, and I have no choice but to trust her judgment. She brings out the joy in me, and I live for the smile that I put on her face. This is love, that she sees me at my worst and still cares for me anyway.

But for all the love she gives me, still I cannot stop apologizing. She is wonderful, and I cannot help but feel inadequate. This isn’t the way we are to express our love.

Why do we do this to ourselves and each other? Why do we let our own egos hinder the most beautiful parts of our existence? I cannot allow this pain to continue; I must let go of the darkness and embrace the light. For her if nothing else.

So to the love of my life I give you this promise: I will always cherish and nurture you. I am not my past, and my depression doesn’t own me. You deserve the world, and I aim to give it to you. Love always wins above all. Love always wins, and I know that I love you. This relationship is the best of me, and I hope to bring out the best in you. My heart was yours from the beginning.

I have no reason to feel sorry, ladies and gentlemen. I have found a love most precious, and for that I should feel proud. This is how it is supposed to be, that we are as one. And I am sorry if that bothers anyone, but..

No, actually, I’m not sorry. I am in love. So let it be said, so let it be done.