I don’t want you to need me. I will never be the girl who needs you, so I would not think to ask the same of you. I need sunsets, country music, my mom, and waterproof mascara. But you, I do not need. I don’t want you to need me. But I sure as hell need you to want me.
Want me when something good happens and you need someone to go out and get belligerent drunk with to celebrate. Want me the next morning when you can’t stand to see the light of day and need two Tylenols followed by endless hours of binge watching documentaries (Yes, I watch documentaries. No, I do not need to be high to do so). Want me at 2 pm when you’re stuck in lecture, and again at 11pm when you’re stuck in your head. Want me when you are standing in front of the ocean. Want to hear me laugh just as much as you want to hear me moan. Want me selfishly.
I am an overthinker and an over analyzer. I am cynical romantic with an insatiable thirst for adventure. I will never be that girl who turns down a cheeseburger or large chocolate shake, regardless if it’s bikini season. I will order the venti iced coffee and forget to eat all day, but still wonder why the fuck my hands are shaking like a baby Chihuahua. I’ll cringe when you call me princess, but melt into a puddle when you call me babe. I’ll pretend like you’re Lucas Scott and I’m Brooke Davis when you call me pretty girl. Oh, btw, I’ll make you call me pretty girl. I can’t walk in heels, but I will strut the fuck out of my chuck taylors for you.
I need passion that doesn’t burn out.
I apologize in advance for making you walk a mile just to get to where I parked. I know there are dozens of spots in the front, but I don’t park between cars. No, like I physically and mentally cannot and will not allow myself to even attempt parking between two cars. Parallel parking? Forget about it. We’ll just find somewhere else to eat. Except there. We aren’t eating there. But, you choose. No, I don’t want Mexican. I’ll eat anything though, I’m starving. No, I don’t want that. Save us both time and just say sushi. Sushi will always be correct. Wait, though. Is there like raw fish on that…? I don’t do raw fish. I mean, I’ve never tried it, but the texture. Okay, wait. What’s the one with avocado…?
I’m not very good at texting back, but I am really good at loving the wrong people. If I can do that, imagine how good I will be at loving the right one. Imagine how good I will be at loving you.
I’ll love you like driving with the windows down and the heater on a July night. I’ll love you in my white t-shirt that has been stained by my hazelnut iced coffee. I’ll love you like a 6 o clock evening when the sky is orange and the sun is strong yet tired. I’ll love you like an A on an exam you didn’t study for. Like crawling into bed with clean sheets right after a warm shower and a long day. I’ll love you when your eyes are tired and your thoughts are too much.
I will get inside your mind and hit all the right spots. The spots that have been neglected to be seen and heard by anyone but your own conscious.
I will love the hell out of you. Even long after you’ve stopped loving me.
I cannot promise to not break your heart. I cannot promise to fuel the fire in your heart on a rainy day. I will not beg you to stay or try and convince you that I am worth the while. Hell, I might tear out all your veins and make your heart bleed out onto cold kitchen tile. But your heart will be shattered only because I loved you too hard. So hard that it will demand to be felt. Too much. Too beautifully. A pain so tragic, it is beautiful. Beautiful that our hearts are capable of feeling something so immensely. So intensely.
That is how I will love you.