I make quick decisions about people.

I like you or I don’t and I know within the first few times meeting you.

I don’t understand when other people also don’t come to these quick decisions about me and others. I’ll ask questions to myself like “Can’t they tell I’m great?”

Once I’m in, I’m in- and I’ll love you more fiercely than you’ve ever been loved. But I won’t show as I’ll be afraid you won’t love me back or at least as much as I love you.

So I will conceal some of my love, give it to you in smaller pieces, mostly non-verbal because words are my love language and mean the most to me. I will see how you respond and reciprocate.

I assume people are good until they show me otherwise.

I am afraid that no one will ever love the full, raw version of me. I’m afraid I’ll always be too much for other people.

I want to open up, share, and know someone’s life story, and how their brain works- but I want them to do it first.

I want them to be vulnerable so I can be too.

I am scared to show people how I am really feeling.
I am scared to give someone control over my emotions.

I hate the idea of someone having power over my emotions.
That feels like a loss to me.
Even if that loss is to the best hands.

I am afraid to rely on anyone.
I want to be self-sufficient and singular.

But I also want to be so intertwined with someone under the sheets on a Saturday morning that even the smell of waffles and coffee doesn’t tempt me to move. I’ve lost track of what limbs are theirs and mine.

I want intimacy without the real ****.
Because the real **** scares me shitless.

I can’t help but romanticize every little bit of my life.
Give me heartbreak I’ll make it growth.
Give me a failure I’ll make it a lesson.
Give me a foe I’ll make them a friend.
Give me your heart I’ll keep it safe.

Love comes out so easily sometimes it feels unintentional.
Like boiling water in a *** on the stove.
It just bubbles out of me.
You might think from these poems I’m a hopeless romantic.
One who tosses rocks and windows, says I love you first and does grand gestures.
I don’t.
I don’t share these poems.
I don’t breakdown to love songs.
Most people say I’m intimidating.
The love comes out in every small action.
Giving them the bigger bowl of pasta.
The piece of bread with more garlic.
Remembering their Tuesday plans.
Wanting to understand how they think.
Finding that perfect, thoughtful gift they never asked for but they love.
Really listening when they speak.
Giving an unsolicited head rub just because I’m really good at them - and I like to hear them sigh with relief as they melt into my legs.
Just like the bubbles in the ***, one by one, they boil out of me.
Often, to evaporate.

Maybe the reason writing is so soothing to me is because I truly am a woman of my word.
I know these letters I write will not be lies.

I keep waiting for the shoe to drop.
I can’t believe you like me. My brain won’t let me.
Maybe it’s evolution of thought.
Self preservation from it’s previous losses.
I discount everything that’s happened.
Looking for signs to prove my doubt.
To not become hopeful because it can’t be true.
A guy like you would be too good to be true.

There’s been a lot of toxic love before you.
You being pure makes me see it.

My brain is wasting all of its time on these **** men.
Not worth it’s time or processing power.
I should be using it to build my empire.
I’m never happy after thinking about love interests.
At best, I’m left with an anxious longing.
So why do I put myself in that loop?
I am the happiest, and feel the most alive when I am creating.
Creating new, powerful things.
Growing.
Why do I let myself get distracted by the things that don’t bring me joy.
It’s time for some mental spring cleaning.