I love you, completely. I look at you and know I can't deny you anything. You want my heart? You already have it. You want my attention? It never left you. You want my blanket I've kept since I was 12? All yours. I just can't help these thoughts that you feel the same. It's probably the fact that I've been used and let down so much in the past that keeps me from believing I could ever have anything so great as you. Bourne doesn't get nice things. Bourne doesn't deserve nice things.
How could you ever be happy with me? What can I ever give to you that you couldn't get better from someone else? When am I going to feel that sweet, familiar burning in my chest when you tell me you just don't feel it anymore? When am I going to put on my smile and tell you it's alright, I understand. When am I going to watch you walk away, like everyone else in my life? When will I be alone again? When will my dreams of a future fade away into painful memory? I love you.
PULVIS ET UMBRA SUMUS