When you love someone, what is it that you love about them? Is it the way they make your heart flutter? The way your body aches after they touch you the right way? The way their hands move on your skin, sinking into all the spots that make you shiver? The way their eyes catches the light and sparkles when they smile? The way they hold you to their chest and breathe you in, the beauty, the softness, the sadness, breath it in, breath it in.
When I love someone, I break my heart trying. I get lost in their infinite potential, I pave the way to their betrayal, I hand them the knife. I fall in love with the endless possibilities, with the kindness and sweetness it evokes from us both. I fall in love with all the wrong people. Because it’s the wrong kind of love that makes your heart race, that makes it skip a beat, that makes you feel the right kind of ache. It’s the wrong kind of love that makes you feel alive as you struggle to breathe, that bites at the hand which feeds it.
I have this very real fear of falling in love. Not the usual fear of the unknown, but the much more threatening fear of the familiar, of a phantom ache. I share an unwillingness to hurt people’s feelings, not due to compassion, but out of self preservation, a natural preference for avoiding responsibility.
For a year of my life I have felt like a visitor. Always packing, always leaving, always making sure never to overstay my welcome. I wondered if that’s how all women felt eventually, living in a house that you didn’t pay for, existing temporarily in someone else’s life, in a role that could be taken away if you weren’t paying attention.
For two years of my life I have fought for you, tooth and nail, clawing at the slightest implications that this was meant to last. Reaching for the stars only to find dust, falling for beautiful promises that only turned to empty words, making me emptier still. Yet I stand here waiting with my heart wide open again, refusing to turn my back on love, convinced that this connection means something so inexplicable that losing it could destroy us both. I hold you to my chest and breathe you in, my fighter, my angel, my darling, let it be, let it be.