I don’t “blog” about my feelings often. What usually happens is whatever I happen to be feeling gets cut into a snippet of some sort of poem, rather than an entire essay filled with run on sentences.
The first time I ever fell in love was my junior year of high school. It was with a boy that I thought I would move in with, that I thought I would love forever. Little did I know, they were all thoughts I made up when I was in my junior year of high school. Then, after almost 8 months of loving him, he didn’t love me anymore. It took me a long time to feel better. I began my melodramatic characterization in my life story. I was heart broken for the first time and thought I could never trust someone with my heart ever again. I spent a couple years fighting feelings for different guys, went through a crisis of whether or not I liked girls, not guys. I had break downs in bathrooms, in dorm rooms, in cars. I had so many, if I could remember them all, there is no way I would be able to count them on just my two hands. I had moments where I thought I would be better off driving into a tree. There was a time that I was burning my skin with a scolding hot shower and my nails were digging into my wrists. Trust and love, even in myself, was not an option anymore. I was struggling to see beauty in any photographs of myself, in the mirror prior to and after make up application, in my head. There was nothing beautiful in my head. Nothing worth sharing in complete (maybe not complete) sentences. I tried to wake up and tell myself that I am beautiful, that I am worthy, that I can be strong. I tried everyday. But during these melodramatic years in my life story, my mind has turned from good to bad so many times over, I’m not sure what is up and what is down. I feel like I’m walking on the ceiling, some days. I never thought anyone could ever love me. My heart is so broken, my mind is in such disarray, no flowers could ever grow in my mind. The weeds could take over if they began to grow.
I thought I would only ever be able to love once. There was a time that I thought I was made for the boy that I “loved” during my junior year of high school. Then one day, I saw the man I love now.
I saw him. I laid my eyes on him and I knew I was in love with him. If I could write him a letter for every moment I fell even more in love, I could fill a library. I would tell him that no matter how difficult it is for us to be together, I will love him. I would tell him that no matter how anxious he gets or how unsure I am, I will love him. I will love him for the rest of my life. I thought I wanted to make a life with the boy I “loved” during my junior year of high school, but I know I want to build a foundation with this man. Along side him, came along little feet that would love him no matter what, a hand that will hold his pinky for the rest of his life. I will never amount to her. She will forever be the love of his life. It is different. It is a situation that I never thought I would be apart of, but for him, I would do anything.
He doesn’t question my beliefs. He thinks the weeds in my mind are beautiful and he will work everyday to clear them, to keep them with him as proof of his grace. I may never amount to what he deserves. Maybe that’s just my mind speaking aloud, again. It does that, sometimes. I could open my mouth it will become the speaker to the record player that is my mind of self-loathing, self-deprecating thoughts. But he loves me. I, admittedly, am in a constant state of fear that one day he will just say those words that would completely obliterate my universe; I don’t love you anymore. But still, he loves me. And although I hope, with my entire being I hope, that he loves me for the rest of my life, I’m still scared. I know he loves me.
I just hope he knows that with every inch of my indecisive, melodramatic, confused body, I love him, too. My heart is his. Forever.
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