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sunshine_173Wowza, I found something positive!
It took me six months to realize I cared about you. Another five to realize just how deeply.
You told me how in like you were with me on our second date.
I’m too frightened for you to meet my family. Too scared of you getting too close. Too worried you’ll leave me.
You introduced me to your parents yesterday.
It’s difficult for me to utter those three little words because I’m so distraught by the meaning behind them. Because I’m so scared that they won’t be enough for you. That I won’t be enough for you.
You whisper them to me every morning, every night. And every time you do, you press your lips to my hair and tell me you’ll never leave me, for me to take as much time as I need.
I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t want children. I feel like I’ll be too wrapped up in the fact that my parent’s divorce affected me that strongly.
You don’t believe in marriage, but you want children. It’s not that you don’t want to be tied down; you just don’t want to conform.
I’m scared. Of life, of love, of you. Not because you’d ever hurt me physically. Cuts and bruises heal. But because I dread the day that you realize I’m not who you really want, and you’ll leave me as broken as the day you met me, just with deeper, more permanent wounds.
You think that those frights are ridiculous. You say you’d never hurt me, never leave me. That the thoughts had never even crossed your mind. Is that what you told her?
I don’t want to be another mark on your list of women. I’ve known you all my life. Wanted you for a good portion. Cared immensely for you; and now I’m scared I’m falling for you, if I haven’t already.
You tell me that you were young. Naïve. Careless. Only wanted what was best for you. Ignorant of anyone and anything except for yourself. But I already see the lie in that. You weren’t ignorant of me. I was, am, your best friend. So why is it so difficult for me to believe that you’ve changed?
I guess the key word of my life with you is scared. Scared of you leaving me, scared of you wanting me, scared of you loving me. Scared of everything you are capable of because you have my heart and my soul, you just don’t know it yet.
C'est la vie.
And to be completely honest, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I should throw all my worries aside and dive head first into what could be instead of hiding from all the if’s. I don’t know if I should run from you as fast as I can and not turn back. But I do know how much that’d hurt me. How much that’d hurt you.
But you keep waiting for me. It’s been four years and you’re still waiting. Still waking me up every morning so I remember to go to work, because God knows if it wasn’t for you I’d have been fired by now. Waking me up every morning with a cup of tea or coffee, bright eyes shining and tired and loving in the early sunlight streaming through the window. Whispering those violently sweet words to me.
I don’t want to make you wait any longer but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to suffer any repercussions. I’ve been broken too many times and if you decide to leave me, it could be the fatal blow.
And now you’re down on one knee, and you’re looking at me with the most purely hopeful expression I’ve ever seen on your face. As I search those universe eyes, I see so many traces of fear and doubt that for a moment I believe that you’re just as scared as I am. Just as scared that I’ll leave you. And I think that in that moment, when I realized just how much you care for me, that I realized you gave me your heart and your soul fearing, just like me, how capable I was to destroy you. And I think, in that moment, that I was ready to take that leap of faith with you.
I think that’s why I said yes.
I think that’s why I told you I loved you.
Four years is a long time. Forever is even longer. I’m finally ready to take that plunge into forever with you.
I’m still scared. Still worried. But I believe in you. I believe in us. I believe that if we try, we could be glorious.
I hope and pray that I made the right decision. To be honest, I know I did.
I know I love you.
It took me six months to realize I cared about you. Another five to realize just how deeply.
You told me how in like you were with me on our second date.
I’m too frightened for you to meet my family. Too scared of you getting too close. Too worried you’ll leave me.
You introduced me to your parents yesterday.
It’s difficult for me to utter those three little words because I’m so distraught by the meaning behind them. Because I’m so scared that they won’t be enough for you. That I won’t be enough for you.
You whisper them to me every morning, every night. And every time you do, you press your lips to my hair and tell me you’ll never leave me, for me to take as much time as I need.
I don’t believe in marriage. I don’t want children. I feel like I’ll be too wrapped up in the fact that my parent’s divorce affected me that strongly.
You don’t believe in marriage, but you want children. It’s not that you don’t want to be tied down; you just don’t want to conform.
I’m scared. Of life, of love, of you. Not because you’d ever hurt me physically. Cuts and bruises heal. But because I dread the day that you realize I’m not who you really want, and you’ll leave me as broken as the day you met me, just with deeper, more permanent wounds.
You think that those frights are ridiculous. You say you’d never hurt me, never leave me. That the thoughts had never even crossed your mind. Is that what you told her?
I don’t want to be another mark on your list of women. I’ve known you all my life. Wanted you for a good portion. Cared immensely for you; and now I’m scared I’m falling for you, if I haven’t already.
You tell me that you were young. Naïve. Careless. Only wanted what was best for you. Ignorant of anyone and anything except for yourself. But I already see the lie in that. You weren’t ignorant of me. I was, am, your best friend. So why is it so difficult for me to believe that you’ve changed?
I guess the key word of my life with you is scared. Scared of you leaving me, scared of you wanting me, scared of you loving me. Scared of everything you are capable of because you have my heart and my soul, you just don’t know it yet.
C'est la vie.
And to be completely honest, I don’t know if I can do this anymore. I don’t know if I should throw all my worries aside and dive head first into what could be instead of hiding from all the if’s. I don’t know if I should run from you as fast as I can and not turn back. But I do know how much that’d hurt me. How much that’d hurt you.
But you keep waiting for me. It’s been four years and you’re still waiting. Still waking me up every morning so I remember to go to work, because God knows if it wasn’t for you I’d have been fired by now. Waking me up every morning with a cup of tea or coffee, bright eyes shining and tired and loving in the early sunlight streaming through the window. Whispering those violently sweet words to me.
I don’t want to make you wait any longer but I don’t know if I’m strong enough to suffer any repercussions. I’ve been broken too many times and if you decide to leave me, it could be the fatal blow.
And now you’re down on one knee, and you’re looking at me with the most purely hopeful expression I’ve ever seen on your face. As I search those universe eyes, I see so many traces of fear and doubt that for a moment I believe that you’re just as scared as I am. Just as scared that I’ll leave you. And I think that in that moment, when I realized just how much you care for me, that I realized you gave me your heart and your soul fearing, just like me, how capable I was to destroy you. And I think, in that moment, that I was ready to take that leap of faith with you.
I think that’s why I said yes.
I think that’s why I told you I loved you.
Four years is a long time. Forever is even longer. I’m finally ready to take that plunge into forever with you.
I’m still scared. Still worried. But I believe in you. I believe in us. I believe that if we try, we could be glorious.
I hope and pray that I made the right decision. To be honest, I know I did.
I know I love you.
