I come with baggage; we all do. I come with stories from my past that are tender to the touch. I come with bruises. I come with moments where I try my best to pretend I’m fine, but when you press, it hurts. I come with nervousness, with a little bit of hesitation that I try my best to fight. I come with preconceived notions of how the people I let in will behave. I come with regret that I’m fighting through, with expectations that I’m learning to let go of.
I come to you in all my pieces—a messy, collection of cells that make up a whole.
And I am not looking for perfection. I am not looking for a man who will take every bit of who I am and love me unconditionally and without flaw. I know we are human, we are imperfect, we are bodies and souls that are trying their best. I know that anyone who loves me will struggle, as I will too. I know that to share your heart with someone doesn’t guarantee bliss. I know there’s a chance we might fall and get hurt.
But if you’re not going to believe—in me, in us—then you’re wasting your time.
If you’re not going to place your passion in your hands and hold it out to me; if you’re not going to put aside every doubt and jump; if you’re not going to love me in all my forms, even when it’s hard, even when it’s messy—then don’t take up space in my heart
If you’re not going to love me when I’m angry, when I’m tired, when I’m quiet, when I’m loud; if you’re not going to accept my imperfection that is just as crazy as your own; if you’re not going to fight with and for me, fight to make things work; if you’re not going to choose me, even when life falls apart—then don’t bother coming closer.
I do not expect perfection, but I do expect someone who believes. I do not hold you to unreachable standards, but I do expect you to love the entirety of me, as I will for you.
Love is far too beautiful to be wasted chasing something that doesn’t spark, doesn’t glow, doesn’t build a fire over time—one that both warms and ignites. Love is not this simple thing, this momentary slice of joy—it’s something that continues, stands the test of time.
And if you’re not going to take jumps, take risks, take chances on us—there’s no point.
If you’re not going to love me when I mess up, when you mess up; if you’re not going to share your mind, take on the world with me; if you’re not going to love me when life gives us sour and I’m trying so desperately to make something sweet—then escort yourself out.
I’m looking for someone who will push forward with me, who will promise to pursue me, even when it gets hard, as I will for him. I’m looking for someone who knows we are both flawed people, but that love will conquer all if we decide to trust, to step forward, to open, to believe.
But if that isn’t you, please go.
Life is too short to be half-loved.
My heart is too big to be shared in pieces.
And I am unwilling to settle for anything less than full.