You make me a person.
You see me in all my flaws, yet you’re still in. You don’t put me on a pedestal, but you put me in place. You put me in all the right places because, with you, I am free. I am real. I am a person. I can be my every version and I can be in every phase. I can be bright when I want to or twisted when I need to. I can be as colorful or as dull, and you see me the same. You see me as a person.
I never have to think twice about what to say or do or how to feel or think or move because I never have to prove you anything, do I? I never have to show you any proof of how capable I am as a person because you’ve always known I am—because you’ve always known we all are. And in times when I am not, you let me be, because you know one way or another, I will find my answers just like everyone else.
You see my power and that never scares you, because you don’t really care about that, do you? You never see me as a threat, and that always resonates in every conversation, in every argument, in every exchange. You know me well enough to know I shouldn’t have to always be that powerful, capable woman. You understand me well enough to let me be just a person who will mess things up along the way, and you never assure me I’m doing things right all the time because you know damn well it’s not possible. Instead, you keep assuring me that I am allowed to fuck up because that’s how life is. And you never expect me to learn from my mess right away. You let me break down as any other person should do. You let me break into millions of pieces right in front of you, and you don’t even see that as a weakness. You never try to put me back together because you know I can and I will handle it as soon as I’m ready.
You never make me feel perfect because we both know that’s bullshit, don’t we? You let me see all my scars and imperfections and that just led me to know myself more and to show you sides of me I never dared to show anyone else before. You let me dive into my ugly and remind me how it is part of my whole.
You’re not my hero either, are you? Because you know I never needed one. You’ve always known I am my own hero, and instead of pulling a Superman on me, you just step back and watch me get things done. You push me to do what needs to be done by letting me do them on my own, in my terms. And when things get unbearable, you’re there ready to drop everything and listen to all my bitching and whining and crying. But you never feel the need to take matters into your own hands because you know I got it.
You never make me strong. You know I don’t always have to. But you, damn you, you make me brave. You make me brave enough to accept myself despite all the fear and doubts and regrets. You make me brave enough to boldly say how I feel, brave enough to write this. Brave enough to be unapologetically weak when I need to be weak. Brave enough to start over, brave enough to build me up again. You make me a person by expecting nothing from me but to be me.
You never make me want to be a better version of myself. You make me a person, and that makes you my person.