I put a photo of my grandparents up in my house today. They were married almost sixty years before my grandmother passed away. I didn’t appreciate their love until I lost my grandfather last December. I guess as hopeless of a romantic as I am, I haven’t been able to grasp the possibility that it’s ever in the cards for me, at least that kind of love, And my problem is that I will settle for nothing less.
I was afraid of you the moment I met you, and the more I learned about you, the more I knew you would have the ability to hurt me. I can still feel the way the heat of your arms enveloped me the night I realized I was letting you into my heart. I quietly rolled away from you and sobbed the softest but sweetest tears I have ever tasted. As terrified as I was, I didn’t think you would ever break me.
Perhaps break isn’t the correct term; Let’s just say I’m perpetually bruised. I don’t think you can really be broken by someone who didn’t even give you a chance to love them.
I’ve been avoiding writing about you for three months. You see, I didn’t think my words could do you justice, I didn’t think my brain could describe the knots, and the butterflies, and the confusion, and the heaviness, and the complete fury that sometimes overwhelms me. And every time I finally feel like I’m starting to get a grip, every time I finally have a second to breathe, someone pushes the fastest setting on the treadmill beneath me, until I tumble backwards into the wall where I started.
I have so many words I want to speak, but I hear nothing every time I open my mouth to scream. Class isn’t a fun quality to have sometimes.
You don’t even deserve my words right now, And I gave you the ones that mattered anyway. I guess you just weren’t paying attention. So let me leave you with only this, but please make sure you memorize every curve of every letter that forms every word that means more to me than I will ever let you know: