Love Letters to a boy named A - #1 the beginning
I think the love I hold for you is easily measured and seen. It’s clear in the actions I take that leave others exhausted by its concept when I describe it. The ways that just a brief glimpse into our lives have them shocked at how we act to each other. “I would never let him speak to me like that” “It’s hard to believe you would behave that way to him” how would you know? How would any of you know the tender hold we share at night, the countless times I have wept over my inadequacy as a person into his chest. That despite every fight, every anxious lashing of self-destruction that we fling onto our skins we still laugh at the absurdity of our pain. I still cry for the person I’ve yet to become, already it feels like he will arrive too late to salvage my life. But when I’m with A, as you wrap me within your arms and words that say how proud you are of the man you hug close I realize how grateful I am to have found you so early on. The fact that we share a story that would match any epic ever written with only our early twenties behind us. A, your capacity for love is endless, the compassion for those that hurt you unfathomable. In my arrogance I have often decided that I am not worthy of your love, that I know better than you, the person who’s very presence has every cell of mine stretch and relax into a primordial state of safety. Surely the wounds that my past harbors must be just for why do they still ache then? When I have learnt that the very act of existence is a sin that stains me then why should I get to be with someone who transforms my life into something so joyful? I can only thank you for each opportunity you give me to love you as deeply as you have loved me. This is not the last letter of love I will write of you (by far it's one of the worst) but it is the first. I love you A.
