We Are Two Completely Different People, But Damn Our Love Is Beautiful

Tim Stief
Tim Stief

You and I are two different people. You’re quiet to my loud, bold to my hesitant, shy to my outgoing. When I shrink back, you march forward. When I stand fearlessly, you pull away. When I speak too loudly, you whisper. And when you raise your voice, I pull you closer, trying to silently kiss your anger away.

We’re two different people, with two wildly different hearts.

You come from strictness and strength; I come from loudness and independence. We fit together, imperfectly but wonderfully. And as we’ve loved, we’ve learned our way around these opposites. We’ve learned to let go and lean in.

But damn, are we different.

I’ve always been the one to jump into love with two feet. You’ve always been the one who takes things slow. You speak what’s on your mind, carefully and tenderly. I keep my voice silent, but pour my heart out on paper, line after line of emotion that I’ll only share with you if you ask.

You want me to take things day by day. I want to plan out a small future. You want me to write for you. I want you to know what I’m thinking before I even put the pen to paper.

We are opposites in so many ways—in our backgrounds, with our past loves, with the way we speak and listen and learn and let each other in.

We are so different, but damn, do we love.

And we keep on trying, keep searching for ways, keep talking to each other, trying to understand how and why and what we can do to love one another better.

So please, promise me one thing as we stumble forward in this love: Promise that you’ll keep loving me for me. Promise that you’ll keep trying to know me, to understand me, to love me, in both the way you know how, and the way I need.

Promise that you’ll meet me halfway. That you’ll put forth all of your heart, to love me somewhere in the middle. And I’ll do the same.

Promise that you’ll give yourself to me in all the ways you possibly can, and I’ll match your heart in the ways I know how.

Maybe it doesn’t matter if we are two polar opposites, that we love so differently, and that we have different ways of thinking. Maybe what matters is that we love with all we have.

Maybe what matters is that we don’t stop—even when things get hard, even when we start to lose focus, even when one of us feels that we won’t ever be understood. Maybe if that happens, we can search inside ourselves for strength and keep on loving until that other person’s heart heals back up again.

Maybe it’s better that we’re so different, so that we’ll never give up on each other.

So please, love me like you know how to love. And I’ll love you how I know I can, no halfsies, no fear, no holding back. Love me in that way that doesn’t make sense, but fills my entire soul. And I’ll love you right back, even deeper, even fuller.

Meet me somewhere in the middle, our opposites clashing and colliding and becoming one.

It doesn’t matter how we’re different or how we love, all that matters is that we do. And baby, I can promise you, I do. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Marisa is a writer, poet, & editor. She is the author of Somewhere On A Highway, a poetry collection on self-discovery, growth, love, loss and the challenges of becoming.

Keep up with Marisa on Instagram, Twitter, Amazon and marisadonnelly.com

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