I was cautious. I was careful. I tried not to bring up dreams of a future because I didn’t want to scare yet another one away.
But then you go and tell me about your dreams, and how you can see the two of us running around on the beach ten years later.
You invite me to dinner with your family and you gossip with my friends.
You tell me about how many puppies you want to adopt with me, and you excitedly listen to me as I describe my dream house to you.
I was cautious. I looked away every time I felt tears approaching. I cut the call as soon as I felt my voice break. I was careful. I held back tears because being “too emotional” was a turn-off, right?
But then you pull me closer every time I cry and refuse to move from my side until I’m done.
You show me videos of puppies to make me smile again.
You pick up your phone at 3 AM if I have a bad dream.
You tell me that crying clears your mind and that it helps you see things better.
You cry on my shoulder. You cry, and I show you videos of food to make you smile again.
I was careful. I tried not to come on too strong. I kept my messages to you as short as possible, although I was dying to write more. I forced myself to not reply instantly, because I didn’t want to risk being seen as “clingy” or “demanding” again.
But then you tell me you love my long messages. You tell me that they make you happy. That they make you feel like I’m always by your side.
You send me countless paragraphs ranting about that one professor. You call me every time you miss me. You call me just to hear my voice.
So now I wonder about my ‘problems.’ About all the things I thought were wrong with me. Were they ever really problems?