we were caught up and lost in all of our vices. | 01/17/2014 |
I’ve had that moment when you meet someone for the first time and you know - with every fiber of your being - you know that they’re it. That you’re supposed to love this person, that they’re supposed to love you. It’s the butterflies in the stomach and sweaty palms and the racing heart. And no, not just during the first meeting, but EVERY single time you’re near them. It’s the inability to form a complete thought, let alone a complete sentence. I’ve had that moment. I still have that moment any time I see him or talk about him. I didn’t have to kiss him to know how I felt. I could just lay in his bed next to him, trace the freckles on his back, and I knew. I just - knew.
I’ve also had that moment when someone wraps their arms around you and it feels like home. As if the house you live in is just the place you stay, but that this person - their arms - is your home. You feel safe, like nothing in the world can touch you. I’ve also had that moment where you feel like you could conquer the world, as long as you did it together. You could move mountains and oceans, as long as you two had each other. Like your world was a better place because they were in it.
I’ve had the moment where you kiss someone and you know, instantly, that that was where your story ended. Even if you had spent a lifetime fancying them, the minute their lips met yours, there was nothing. No spark. No butterflies. Nothing. I’ve also had the complete opposite happen, where you know you’re hopelessly in love with someone you’ve never kissed.
I know what the butterflies and the fireworks and the comfort and safety feels like when you feel - truly feel - for someone. I also know what it’s like to realize that they were only pages, and not chapters, in your life story. I know what’s it’s like to stare in the face of someone who feels like they’re meant to be your forever, and have them turn out to only be a moment. I know what it’s like to hold onto an idea, because it’s better than the alternative.
I know how it feels to get your heart handed to you, mashed up and broken, and you have to learn how to put it back together yourself. I know, because I’ve been there. I’ve had that happen. I’ve loved too completely and lost bits of myself each time, and I’ve never gotten those pieces back.
So forgive me if I don’t want to go on random dates - that don’t mean anything - with my "hoes." Forgive me for wasting my heart on people who don’t deserve it. Forgive me for wanting to feel all the things that I know exist, because I’ve felt them before. Forgive me for waiting for forever, instead of, for right now. Forgive me for being a hopeless romantic trapped in a pessimists brain.
Love is a terrible and beautiful thing. I’ve been witness to its terror and its beauty. So let me love my way.
Shannon
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