Aug 2020
For far too long, I think I was looking for some love to save me. A sort of attachment to tell me exactly who I was and to ask me to get my **** together.
For too long I was hoping love would find me and tell me everything I didn't know I could become. Love would guide me in the right direction and avoid me making any mistake. I would become a completely different person by the time my love would come by. I would change all of the negative traits about me, and I'd automatically break all the generational curses that I've seen unfold for too long. I would figure out that everything else I cared about is a flat out lie.
For too long, I was hoping that my future love would be able to help me join the bandwagon of improvement and self-consciousness. My love would teach me everything that I was missing to become the man I always told myself I would grow into. My love would save me from all of the monsters I fight consistently live inside of my head. My love would be my Wonder Woman, and I'd be her Superman.
For too long, I thought that my love would help me become the most hard-working person in the world. My love would motivate me to exercise day in and day out, especially on those days that I didn't feel like working out. She would help me figure out how to meal prep the quickest way, but they'd still be pretty yummy meals. My love would teach me all about new music that I never got the chance to listen to. She'd introduce me to all the songs I should've been listening to from way before. She'd know all of the lyrics that belonged to Fergie in all the Black Eyed Peas songs, and I'd be her hype man or Will-I-Am to sing the other pieces.
For too long, I thought that love was always supposed to save me and force me to transition into the next chapter.
For too long, I've been putting these crazy types of expectations to my love, and I just realize it now.
My love's job will never be to save myself or to change what I'm doing or to ignite a fire in my life. I should be able to do that on my own.
My love's job shouldn't be to pick me up from the hole I dug myself into. That's my responsibility to figure out.
My love's job can't be to teach me everything I should've already learned on my own.
The only thing that I should ever ask of my love is to help herself define her happiness and allow me to contribute. I only want my love to be dependent on my love always being available for her, while she works on herself and lets me do the same. I want to be a team, and if that means I have to pick up the slack now and then for the both of us, so be it. I'd like the same.
I'll be better.
For too long I was hoping love would find me and tell me everything I didn't know I could become. Love would guide me in the right direction and avoid me making any mistake. I would become a completely different person by the time my love would come by. I would change all of the negative traits about me, and I'd automatically break all the generational curses that I've seen unfold for too long. I would figure out that everything else I cared about is a flat out lie.
For too long, I was hoping that my future love would be able to help me join the bandwagon of improvement and self-consciousness. My love would teach me everything that I was missing to become the man I always told myself I would grow into. My love would save me from all of the monsters I fight consistently live inside of my head. My love would be my Wonder Woman, and I'd be her Superman.
For too long, I thought that my love would help me become the most hard-working person in the world. My love would motivate me to exercise day in and day out, especially on those days that I didn't feel like working out. She would help me figure out how to meal prep the quickest way, but they'd still be pretty yummy meals. My love would teach me all about new music that I never got the chance to listen to. She'd introduce me to all the songs I should've been listening to from way before. She'd know all of the lyrics that belonged to Fergie in all the Black Eyed Peas songs, and I'd be her hype man or Will-I-Am to sing the other pieces.
For too long, I thought that love was always supposed to save me and force me to transition into the next chapter.
For too long, I've been putting these crazy types of expectations to my love, and I just realize it now.
My love's job will never be to save myself or to change what I'm doing or to ignite a fire in my life. I should be able to do that on my own.
My love's job shouldn't be to pick me up from the hole I dug myself into. That's my responsibility to figure out.
My love's job can't be to teach me everything I should've already learned on my own.
The only thing that I should ever ask of my love is to help herself define her happiness and allow me to contribute. I only want my love to be dependent on my love always being available for her, while she works on herself and lets me do the same. I want to be a team, and if that means I have to pick up the slack now and then for the both of us, so be it. I'd like the same.
I'll be better.
