Martin.

Dear Martin,

I don't know if I'll get you to read this or not but it's rolling on for the early hours of the morning and I'm not feeling too great. First off, this is not a horrendous Nightwish/Tarja open letter or anything, ew, Christ, no, it's pretty much the opposite. Secondly, I love you to pieces. You know that, I know that, most people I know know that. I think you're great.

I am your insecure girlfriend. I'm fat, no fun to look at, vague, indecisive, often no fun to be with, overly-intense, sad, over-thoughtful, jealous and over-sensitive. Believe me, I know, I have to make good things happen out of it. I kind of like to think that I'm no more crazy than V, or Belle or Theoden king but I guess it takes a true revolutionary geek to make that assumption... =P

I think a lot, usually smiling at your awesomeness, that I really, really don't deserve you, I really don't think I'm good enough for you. And yet I hope you haven't noticed. Because I'm really trying to be better. To lose weight, to be nicer to some people, harsher to others (you know the one.. =P) and to just generally be a normal-Nicole-ish kind of person, but I'm stuck sometimes wondering what to do or say, whether I've said the wrong thing, look wrong, sound wrong, wondering seriously about if I embarrass you. This is all self-inflicted of course but I'm just trying to explain in my usual, best roundabout kind of way of doing things how much of a mindfuck the aftermath of my self-esteem is.

It absolutely kills me to think that for a minute I've caused you to be annoyed, confused, tired, irritated or any of that because once again, I'm drowning in my own idiocy and you have to stick around to hear about it. Sorry baby! I don't mean to ramble. But you seem to say the right things nearly all the time, and that's just great, especially when I'm doing my bestest impression of a minefield. Dude, you are the fish to my chips. With as much vinegar as you want. Nom.

So, basically my point is, don't give up on me yet. I kinda doubt (hope!) the thought hadn't even crossed your mind but just so you know, I'm sort of in the middle of some big moment where I go in as a scary-crazy English girl with emotional issues up the A and come out as something a whole lot easier to love, or at least that's the plan but I wonder if anything's an improvement at the stage where I'm writing you an open letter that I may never grasp the balls to be able to send you the link to, but maybe I will. =P It's actually made me feel a lot better. On the thesis that you are adorably less-than-great at giving and receiving compliments, I have no idea if you find me boring, or crazy, or sort of pathetic but I hope you don't.

You know how I always say "Sorry I'm so crap."? This is the long version, because I AM crap, I could be so much better to you! I really, really want to be. You're fucking perfect. Just... Awesome. You're my favourite person. That's like three compliments in a row, I guess that means I've caused some kind of space-time rift.

I have a feeling that I'll be able to sleep better now I've put all this piano-black feeling into words.

Please, please don't give up on me yet.

I love you, as always. =)

Nicole. <3