Let Me In

Knock knock.

Hey, it’s me. You know, the me you’ve been with for a while now. The me who shares your body and your bed. The me who has breakfast with you and goes for walks with you and reads with you, cozily on the couch while it rains outside.

I was wondering if I could maybe be let in?

I know you’re here, physically and mostly mentally. We’re talking, laughing, having fun, sharing ourselves. But I can’t help but notice that part of you isn’t fully present. It’s being squirreled away, kept apart from me somehow. You’re not always truly here emotionally and sometimes mentally. I watch your eyes go shadow-y and it’s like pieces of you take a step back. You hide in plain sight, right in front of me. I’m the only one who’d notice this slight change but seeing it hurts me. It means you’re not fully with me. It means you’re gone somehow.

“I’m right here,” you say, laughing. “What do you mean?”

But you’re not right here. You’re somewhere far away. I reach up and smooth your hair back from your forehead and search your face with my eyes. You’re here, but you’re somewhere else.

Where have you gone? Let me inside. Let me come with you.

I picture your heart like a series of doors. I unlock one and slip a little bit further inside, only to be greeted by another door and another lock. But that’s okay. That’s fine. I’m a little bit more inside. I’ve gained some space. I have more room to explore you — your life, your opinions, your experiences, your feelings.

It’s progress. But I’m still knocking. Knock knock. I want in.

Whatever it is, I can handle it. I want to handle it. I want everything of you, the whole you and nothing but the you. I want all of your parts. I want to hold them in my arms the way I hold your body and know that you’re really, really here.

If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I am here to wait. I can wait. But I want you to know I’m waiting. I’m not impatient. I’m not worried. I just want you to know that I’m standing here, at your door, eager to become immersed. I want to know where you go, when you go away. I want you to trust me, to want me to come with you, to want me to know. That day, the day you let me in, I’ll know I’ve really won something special.

Prizes take time. I’ve spent long enough peeling back your layers and learning your truths. I’m like a bunny now, burrowed halfway between the ground and the surface where the carrot is, nosing around through the dirt looking for that delicious treasure. No matter how long it takes, I want to get to your carrot.

Unlock that last door. Open up fully and truly. Put the key into the hole and turn it. Invite me inside. I’ll wipe my feet on the rug and hang my coat on the rack and settle in, snug by the fire. I’m not going anywhere. Unlike others who may have been here, I’m not going to break anything or hurt you. I am here to love what I find. That’s all.

Knock knock.

Hey. It’s me.

Won’t you let me in? TC Mark

image – Shutterstock

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  • http://meryllsarco.wordpress.com Meryll Sarco

    Reblogged this on The Funnel and commented:
    I cried reading this because I know that should my future mate love me this much, he’ll feel the same way. “Layers and layers …” How I hope God gives me someone who’d care enough to knock and desire to be let in.

  • http://bellaimpressioni.wordpress.com lily

    Reblogged this on Beautiful Impressions and commented:
    There was just something about this post. You should check Thought Catalog frequenty.

  • http://pearlpulchae.wordpress.com pulchae

    Reblogged this on Twilight to Dawn.

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    Reblogged this on Dumpster and commented:
    I may not know the social etiquette in your safe little cove, but rest assure that I will learn them. I will be really gentle, I won’t break anything. Just trust me and grab that handle when I knock.

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    Reblogged this on // words of the unwise kind and commented:
    *screams* “PLEASE LET ME IN!!”

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