10

The final date has been set. In 10 days from now, she will let me know if she is willing to overcome her fears and try and be happy with me or if she won't. The countdown is a bitch, but I guess it's better to know than not to know, right?

Through these past weeks, I've told you about how I've felt without fears of looking like a pussy, or a helpless sap, or a plain romantic. And now, it's almost over. The wait, I mean. Every single day will be full of silent sighs, venting here often, and hoping I have enough strength to hold my shit together.

I hate to reference anything by this guy, but it kinda fits.

I'm trying to be as cool as possible about all this. The thought of being heartbroken scares me to death, though. If she says no, I hope I'll have your support. I am really gonna need it. If she says yes, well... We will have a couple of farewell parties, dinners, and I'll be off in a month. I should be there by the first week of June. Keep your fingers crossed.

As much as I would like to think only about her saying 'yes', I can't. I have to take 'no' into consideration. It's either that or not thinking about it at all.

10 days.

10 days before love turns into a greater expression of it, or turns into a big, giant, unknown, scary creature.

10 days before I know how much love is worth for her.

Wish us luck, will you?