I’ve always questioned every damn decision I make. My brain works faster than I’d like; it has a knack for deciding to go turbo-speed when I’m supposed to be sleeping. I overanalyze the mundane. I find uncertainty in every step I take, every path could be the wrong one, or the right one, and I drive myself mad trying to figure out how to just be.
You know, how to be still, or how to be calm, or how to see the world through some lens I’m afraid everyone else has figured out but me.
Nothing in my life has ever made sense.
Except for you.
You’re the one shiny, glistening bit of hope in this world that I’ve never second-guessed.
I used to think love would be a flashlight. Meaning everything that had been so dark before would suddenly be illuminated. I thought love would show me how to be better, would show me the way out of all this self-loathing and depression. The right person would swoop in and fix me. That’s what I hoped.
Turns out, SHOCKER, that doesn’t work. That’s not a thing that happens. Humans aren’t living medications. You didn’t magically show up and cure my depression. There was no light at the end of the metaphorical tunnel just because I fell in love with you.
But things were easier. Not easy. Easier. You made sense.
You make sense.
Even when my life is a chaotic blur and I’m trying to figure out how anyone ever makes it out of this storm, you’re there. And I get it. Life is not supposed to be smooth or clear. It’s a bumpy road that has so many directions, you’re likely to get carsick once or twice. But, hopefully, you meet someone who gets it. You meet someone who sees you in all your imperfection and still kisses you when the sky seems like it’s crashing down.
You just make sense. I don’t know how else to explain it.
In this ridiculous, dramatic, messy world, you, my love, are the only thing that always makes sense. And I don’t mean that in any way to put pressure on you. It’s just you. I think about it all. Your existence, your heart, your hearty laugh. I am stumbling in the darkness and not expecting a flashlight but remembering your face.
Maybe there’s no light at the end of the tunnel, but there is your face. To know you exist is more than I could have ever hoped.
On the days I wake up and everything hurts, you roll over in bed and trace the freckles on my skin with your lips. I forget that everything hurts. It’s just your lips.
Thank God for your lips.