We snagged, just for a second there, didn’t we? We bumped our heads together like idiots and we both came up concussed. Everything was going so wonderfully, I was so delirious for you, but then… well, it’s life happening, not some romantic dream. And I hope, I really do wish it with my eyes squeezed tightly closed and my hands balled firmly into fists at my sides as I concentrate, that next time we see each other we forget what’s “real” and indulge in our reality instead.
Because our reality, right now, it’s just about falling in love. Let’s put the real stuff aside—the past, our insecurities, all the baggage we’ve imported from all our journeys—and let’s just be. This is our moment to be fanciful, and we might not get another one, at least not together. I don’t want to have to “deal” and “cope” and “work” yet. For now I just want to kiss you and lose myself in all the small moments when you wrap your arms all the way around me.
Things are complicated, I know, but let’s soar above that, at least for a day. Let’s make getting to know each other about all the wonderful things that made us fall into each other’s embrace in the first place. Let’s not mar it with all the ugly crap we’ve filled our pockets with over the course of the years we’ve already lived without each other’s company. And then, once we’re madly in love, and only then, we can unleash it all upon each other, so that we’re equipped to deal with it the way that lovers do—patiently and compassionately.
You know how it is when we’re laughing? That’s how I want it to be all the time when we’re together. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not idealistic or selfish—if you’re having a bad day I will be there to hold you and hold you until you don’t feel sore anymore, and I’ll do it without complaint or request. I’ll do it because I care about you deeply. But listen: we’re not ready for the heaviness of the past yet. We can share and laugh and rub away each other’s daily miseries but I don’t want to delve into the backwardness of all that came before. Not yet, at least.
I want you to trust me and know that every time I look at you all I see is wonderfulness. I see lights and rainbows and everything good and awesome about this world all radiating out of you at once. Yes, I’m intense and yes, I’m romantic, but can’t you just take my adoration for a second and let it make you as happy as it makes me? Relax into me, because I’ve got you on a pedestal now, and there’s no one else in the room but us. And this is half the reason I don’t want to share the dirty stuff with you—because every now and then you make me feel so warm it’s as though nothing else ever existed.
We could be best friends, you and me; we’re so alike in so many ways. And now we have to decide whether we’re going to knock our likenesses against each other and explode into tiny bits that splatter against the walls, streaking downwards and pooling in insidious puddles, or if we can make those likenesses build each other up, like great cities or rolling mountains. I’d like to think that we could be a team, that we could conquer everything together. That we’ll draw from each other to be stronger and better. That we’ll still be holding hands through all of winter’s blizzards.