A/N: The parts of the letter that have been crossed out are --written--like--this--. Boo on this site for not supporting strikethroughs.

I know you well enough to imagine what you must be thinking. It doesn't make sense to write you a letter like this. I was here only yesterday. I could have spoken to you in person and saved myself the trouble.

Well, there are some things you can't just come out and say. Or, I can't, anyway. And when I say that, I speak from experience. There are times when I come close. Times when we talk alone together, when I feel like you understand me more than anyone ever could, when my only wish is to abandon all reason and confess everything to you. But then you stare back at me with that blank look in your eyes, and the courage I need to say those few words just isn't there.

If you want the truth, I'm a pitiful coward. It's ironic, in a way, considering I've been calling you one since the day we met. I never meant it. You're not a coward, or despicable or worthless for that matter. --Honestly--Coolidge,--you're--worth--more--to--me--than--

Never mind that scribble. It's nothing. Don't pay any attention whatsoever to it. I only wanted to take back the cruel things I've said to you. I wouldn't say them, if I could help it. They slip past my guard when I'm upset about my own flaws… when I'm angry, embarrassed, frustrated, and all the emotions I'm not strong enough to control. And I think you're starting to realize that, aren't you?

Funny how I always seem to take it out on you. --Maybe--because--you're--the--one--I--

Look at this mess. I can't even write a proper letter. A whole page, and what I've been trying to tell you still remains unsaid.

I'm writing to say that I have feelings for you.

I hope you understand what I mean. This letter was a struggle in itself. I'm not sure I could manage an explanation.

I'm writing to say that I'm in love with you, then. That should tell you everything.

I just wanted you to know. I'm not expecting a fairytale ending. I'm not even expecting you to feel the same, so don't feel like you owe me an apology if you don't. If all I am to you is a friend, I can accept that. I'll contain my feelings and continue to fight by your side, just as I've always done. I've been preparing for that all along.

Don't feel sorry for me, Coolidge. Don't you dare. Though I may not be one in the literal sense, I'm a knight. I won't be the porcelain doll who lies shattered on the floor after you cast her aside. I'm strong enough to pick up the pieces.

At least, that's what I've been telling myself. But I'll be fine in the end. Really.