Knowing in the back of my mind that you would never fully allow yourself or your heart to belong to me was a merry-go-round version of limbo I couldn’t remain in any longer.
There is more to living that purely existing. It’s a wonderful, terrifying, incredible, impeccably imperfect journey, and you only get a one-way ticket. Life isn’t a round-trip affair.
Every part of me rejected that phrase. He said it casually in the hope that maybe I didn’t hear it, and maybe it didn’t have to be true, or perhaps so we could just glaze over it and move on to what was for dinner. “I’m sick,” he said.
We learn how to put one foot in front of the other, and see the significance in the smallest of joys. The broken parts of us get the fixing they need. And you did that for me.
You are mine, and I am yours, and when you said, “Because who wants to spend the rest of their lives alone?”, I saw you and me sitting on a porch swing, wrapped in each other’s arms.
Stay when she shows you the side of her that’s unlikable. Come to understand that it’s when she needs you the most.