I’ve found that growing up means being honest. About what I want. What I need. What I feel. Who I am.
For once in my life, it feels like she is trying just as hard to be there as me, and I think I’m hooked…
Listen, if you’re going to leave, that’s fine. and I know you promised you wouldn’t seven months ago while I was crying into your neck but I also know that sometimes it rains even when it’s not supposed to and sometimes boys kiss girls they shouldn’t and we tear flowers out of the ground just to watch them die and things change, so I understand if you’re done, but please, when you’re packing all your old sweaters and books, don’t forget to take all your three AM phone calls, and photographs where we’re smiling so wide it looks like we’ve never known that feeling in the pit of your stomach when someone screams “I don’t love you anymore.” Take back every kiss, every night you fell asleep next to me, every poem I wrote you, every song you sang to me, every “I love you more fight,” every shock I felt in my skin when you brushed against me. I was never scared of ghosts until you left but now I see you everywhere and god if you’re going to kill me please just do it quickly because I see you in everything and it’s making it hard to breathe.
I think that’s just it. The fearlessness of falling in love for the very first time, the boundless trust you deal out, the ideals of happy ever after. I think you only experience all that once. Thereafter, you’re careful. You fear rejection, trust comes so much harder and happy ever after becomes only something you can hope for. I don’t ask to be your first love, how could I fight fate or time or circumstance. But what I ask is in spite of being careful, in me you find it in you to be fearless, trusting, and in me you find your happy ever after.
I think that’s what scares me: the randomness of everything. That the people who could be important to you might just pass you by. Or you pass them by. How do you know?