Thank you.
Thank you for helping me through every panic attack.
Thank you for holding me close when I started to shake,
for never walking away...
even when I told you to.
Even when I cried, "it would be easier for you"
You just told me that you didn't want easy,
and that you were here to stay.

Thank you for understanding that some days I just wanted to be left alone.
You always seemed to know that it would wear off and all I would want for hours on end would be to hold you close.
Thank you for understanding that even in my moments of blind rage,
you were never really the target of such hate.

You helped build me up, and stood by as I fought my demons.
Reminded me that they didn't make me any less of a wonderful person.
You will always be my safe harbor,
regardless how many miles I travel.

Don't get me wrong,
the mushy- gushy, shy tender first moments of love are important.
But too many people have spent their lives writing about it.
Comparing the beginning of love to:
budding flowers,
sunrise,
summer,
the list goes on and on.
I say this not to be critical, as I too have spent hours writing about first encounters, and awkward yet tender first kisses and the beginning of love stories.
But I will spare you another poem about the honeymoon phase.

Society teaches us that "love" is always romantic and it's not real if it doesn't look and feel like a Nicholas Sparks novel.
If we aren't feeling butterflies and being swept off our feet, then it isn't worth our time.
Or, that our partner is wrong for us, if these attributes should fade over time.

However, I have learned that society's version of love, is the version that sells, it's embellished to attract the masses.
At the end of the day sometimes all love is,
someone who checks up on you,
someone who asks about your day and is genuinely interested.
It's the person who has your back through thick and thin,
who would never abandon you because they are angry or disappointed in you.

It's time we as a society look a bit deeper than the surface of such a complex emotion and understand that love isn't always about blushing and stealing kisses in the dark.
It's also about having a hand to hold, when you feel like it's you against the world.
It's time we let the honeymoon phase become a perk, but not the definition of love.

I self harm the way some people play the lotto.
Not every day, or even once a week,
but when I end up on a winning streak
I can't stop.
I keep feeling like one of these days I'll get lucky.

I still hope for the best for you even though there is no future for us.
Not anymore, you made your choice, and I made mine.
Still miss you sometimes though- there are a lot of memories here.
Someone will crack an old joke from years ago, or comment on how long my hair has gotten,
(I haven’t cut it since that time you said you liked my short hair)
Here’s to hoping we both find our missing puzzle piece someday soon,
the longer it takes, the more I start to think it’s still you.