One of the most unique mysteries I found in our relationship was how I – a person who cannot out down her pen and notebook, someone whose phone Notepad are full of little musings – cannot seem to write about us, or you. It seemed as if I ran out of words to describe how much I love you. Let me try now.
Before you came, I was merely existing, trying to conquer the now, refusing – and failing – to think about tomorrow. I was a walking paradox, a contradiction of emotions and ideals, too damn lost to even let myself imagine the possibility of a future.
I used to be brave and confident, even though I must admit that most of the time, it’s a protecting facade. I never hesitate to try out for things I’d never imagine I’d do, and would gladly face challenges head on. Somehow, though, over the course of the war going on inside my head, I lost sense of that person. Once so brave, now too afraid. I became insecure, afraid that people would eventually see me for the fraud that I am. I back out from any idea of confrontation. I lost my guts. I lost my will to fight, even when it’s for myself, against my self. My battle scars are still on my body.
I was still fighting the losing battle when you entered my life. You – as I once said in those rare moments when poetry does not fail me – were my glorious life-changing moment. When our lips touched that fateful night, the battle inside my head halted. The voices went silent, the demons retreated. All that I could think of was, “How am I brave enough to do this?”. I’ve wanted to hold you and kiss you since I saw you, while you were falling and chasing another girl, even when they warned me against you. With simply your existence, I managed to find my courage again.
I was hesitant about the love you offered – it was so sudden, so good to be true I was afraid it will crumble away once I grasp it. The demons came back with roaring vengeance, the voices screaming. I was lost and confused and unsure save for one thing: I wanted you. I could not stay away. I wanted you in my life. I wanted to be in your life. I want to give myself – and gods, you, you – a chance for love. You could love me better. I could love you better.
Our relationship took a step further one beautiful November night. I could still feel your touch in my bones; my skin still feels your gaze. You gave me confidence as you touched me, your lips told me who I am is welcome. You kissed my scars and healed my heart. I found myself grounded by your embrace, no longer lost in confusion. Three days later, my impulsiveness – my raw need, to be honest – lead me to your heart and welcomed you home.
We were both scared and unsure, but I found something else entirely as we faced battles together: I want a future. With you. I have, for the first time ever, let myself imagine a future. I wanted a family. We picked children’s names.
Being with you meant I could dance in the thunderstorm no matter how scared I was of the thunder because I know you will keep me safe and warm. Being with you made me realize just how hard I could fight for love. Being with you let me see how much my heart can take. How much more I could have taken. For you. For us.
You gave me a future.
You gave me the will to fight.
You gave me courage.
You gave me strength.
You gave me life.
I never realized how loving me took its toll on you. I guess I was too much. My existence became a burden. Maybe, in some way, the life you gave me was from your own. I felt so full of love while you felt empty. I couldn’t blame you for walking out. I’d never forgive myself for dimming the bright fire of your soul I loved so much.
Now, thunderstorms aren’t quite the same. I am still scared, but I feel the cold in my soul. The future is once again a blur. One thing is new, adding to the mix of the voices, a new demon rising: I should have loved you better.
This Side of The Road 