This Is Me Choosing To Love You

istockphoto.com / AleksandarNakic
istockphoto.com / AleksandarNakic

I choose you when it’s not convenient. On the days when I feel like shutting down from the world beside me, I choose you to be the one who takes control of my universe. I choose you when it’s easier to call it off and say, let’s try again. On those miserable fights, through nasty words, through broken feelings, let’s promise to still fight for what, at the core of our love, is hues of gold; let’s fight for what is honest, what’s difficult. <strong?Love is not supposed to be splendored. Splendored means it doesn’t have any concrete value; it’s superficial in appearance; it’s worshiped only through personification, through smiles, and indulgent love affairs.

Real love is much messier than that; it’s filled with solitude, graciousness and worry.

Am I doing well enough? Am I good enough? How will this all work out?

Life, after all of those messy moments, come filled with an unrivaled passion and love and pure magic that spirals each and every one of us into a world we don’t occupy alone, but one we coexist with one another; a world that’s unbridled, overly passionate and one that ignites us with courage, and determination to fight for what’s ours – because this world, in all its’ brilliance– it’s what comprises those exhilarating moments that make us happy. And you are that to me.

You are my brilliant ending; my fairy tale amidst sappy Harlequin romance novels; a love that doesn’t compare to the words of Nicholas Sparks, of Emily Bronte, or John Green. Your love can’t be painted on a blank canvas. It can’t be put down, so eloquently into words. Your love dances on every page – lingers on every word. Your soul dazzles, and splashes in vibrant colors because it matches the brightness in your eyes, the pinkness of your cheeks, the mahogany that colors your hair; the glimmer that meets me the minute my eyes fall open.

Your love is not convenient, and it never will be. But, I vow to immerse myself in your masterpiece for as long as I shall promise you I’ll live. I want you to be my brushstrokes; I want your fingers to gently grasp me, allowing the graciousness and fluidity of your motions to dance me across an empty slate; I want our love to be the center of that universe; to be the very core of that unwritten page. Because that is how I’ll love you. TC mark

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