I read a poem that said,

“Find me where happiness doesn’t feel like a false spring.”

I think that’s when you know you’re in love.

You are no longer looking for the storm.
The other shoe to drop.
The reality check.

You’re all in.
Fully abandoning any thought of snow.

You’re not my usual type.
You’re larger.
In multiple ways.
Physically, you played football and rugby and look like it.
Mentally, you have strong opinions and care deeply.
Emotionally, you don’t shy away from the hard conversations.
You’re not my usual type.
I wasn’t attracted to you by your jawline or abs.
I was attracted to you First because of your brain.
Second, for the way I felt around you.

I do not have words for you yet.
Can’t sum you up on a few lines.
No rhyme or poem comes to mind.
But I feel like when I do- it will be a good one.

Why is it that with every breakup since
I think of you
I cry at the loss of you

I keep thinking if I let myself feel it fully it will eventually stop. Doesn’t it have to eventually stop?

Christmas used to be magic
Mistletoe had meaning
Tinsel told me reasons this year was different
Little lights told me lies and I believed every single one
Carols charmed me
Presents paraded in front of me
Oh god and love, love felt so very near.

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.