I'm not ready to let go yet. Or, rather, I'm not ready to start letting go. I always knew we wouldn't be the only things in your life forever, but I didn't prepare myself for how it'd feel for that to start decreasing.

It feels horrendous.

My phone keeps showing me pictures of when you were tiny, and I think about when you needed me, and now you don't. I worry that I've set a bad example and that one day we'll be gone from each other's lives, and you'll talk about how you're not that close with your dad. And maybe it'll only affect you sometimes. Most of the time you'll be fine not hearing from me.

I worry that your friends aren't really your friends. I know I can't protect you from this forever, but that doesn't mean I don't want to. I know that trying to protect you doesn't really help you, and doesn't even feel like you're being protected, but seeing you sad is something I'll never be able to bear. And I know that's selfish to a degree, but it's not all selfish. If I could protect you from everything forever, I would.

Mostly I don't ever want you to mask around me. I know you already do. When I seem hard, and I'm not just being grumpy, it's because the world is hard. In my experience, the world tolerates some things, and I'm trying to share that knowledge with you to make your life easier. It's likely that I'm failing and I'm sorry. I never want you to feel that I don't think you're good enough just how you are.

I just want to be in your life forever. The older I get and the further I grow apart from my dad, the more scared I am that that'll happen with us and I can't think of anything worse. I'm so sorry for the mistakes I make; I'm doing all of this for the first time, but I am trying.

I love you, kid.