I’m scared you’ll get bored of me. I’m scared you’ll leave me. I’m scared you’ll ruin me.
But I’m even more terrified that I’ll end up hurting you. I’m not used to be treated like an equal in a relationship. I’m not used to receiving morning texts and genuine compliments. I’m not used to the way you treat me.
I don’t know how to be in a healthy relationship. I’ve never seen one and I’ve certainly never been in one. Up until now, until I met you, I thought that every relationship was destined to be destructive. I was ready to settle for someone shitty, because I didn’t think people like you existed.
I know how to fight. I know how to fuck. I know how to overanalyze every situation and get angry over imaginary conversations that I’ve been having in my head.
But I don’t know how to honestly express my feelings after years of men wanting me to be mindless. I don’t know how to fully let you into my life. I don’t know how to be a good girlfriend. I haven’t had any practice.
But you’re a perfect boyfriend. You make me better in every sense of the word. You stimulate my brain and my body. You make me feel beautiful. I want to do the same for you. But I’m worried I never will. I’m worried that dating me will be more of hassle than a blessing. I’m worried that you’re going to realize how fucked up I am and leave me behind.
Because I am fucked up. When you first grasped my hand, I thought you were a perfect gentleman, because the handholding actually came before the kissing. And when I realized you weren’t using me for sex, I was genuinly confused, because I’d gotten used to seeing myself as an object.
I have asshole exes. Insecurities. Baggage. I have flaws that run much deeper than the pimples on my face. I don’t want to bother you with all of that.
And I don’t want to break your heart when I get scared of how fast things are moving and run away. I don’t want to mistake your affection for smothering, because I’m not used to being treated the way I deserve. I don’t want to make the biggest mistake of my life by leaving you.
And I’m worried that, even though I’ve warned you about how messed up my head is, you still don’t see it. I don’t want you to put me on a pedestal. I’m praying that you don’t view me as some flawless goddess, because if you do, eventually the illusion will fade. Eventually, you’ll see me for who I really am, and I don’t want you to be surprised.
So open your eyes. Look at me. Really look at me. If you can see my cracks and fissures, and still want to be with me, then I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ll be the best girlfriend I can be. I’ll try not to fuck this up, because the last thing I want to do is lose you.