I wanted to travel back to when you still loved me. If only for one day, just to wake up next to you one last time. All I could afford was a time catapult, and the closest it could get me was two years before you were born.
I thought about telling my young self not to make the same mistakes, but I didn't want him seeing how pathetic he'd become.
I wanted to watch you grow into the woman I'd come to love, and so, I trained to become a teacher in the school you would one day join. As the years died away my love for you became more and more like that of a father. Love replaced lust and I knew I had to act soon before I thought of you like a daughter.
I couldn't bear the thought of some idiot teenager in a tracksuit taking your virginity. That is why I approached you when you were just 15, that is why we made love that day in room 14a. It was a mistake. I have to leave. I've broken the law.
I should have known that my actions that day would cause you to never trust a man again, making sure you'd never be completely open when we meet and fall in love in many years time, and that is why we'll never last.
I know you won't believe any of this, but please don't press charges. I'm not built for prison.