There’s a moment in an argument, a split second where you look at me, your eyes glaze over as if you can’t really see me, and I wait for those two words to burst through your perfect mouth and shatter my world.
I can feel the blood rushing through my entire body and hear my heart pounding in my ears, and I have this intense urge to vomit.
“He’s going I leave me; this really is it. We’re over. ”
And suddenly, I’m trying to imagine a world where you don’t exist, where my phone isn’t crammed with your texts and I slowly forget how your body feels pressed up against my back as we find sleep. I can feel myself breaking; I can feel my legs buckling and the ground beneath my feet shifting.
But instead you say, “”How can we fix this?”
And just like that the storm inside me calms, my world shifts back into focus and I no longer feel heavy, yet completely fragile at the same time.
I’m looking at you, at the furrow carved into your brow and the hurt staining your skin and I know I have found someone whose love for me runs deeper than the facade I present to the world. It accepts that I am a messy, imperfect, unreasonable combination of past and present experiences. It does not run at the first hurdle, it grabs my hand and jumps alongside me.
And I know I am difficult to be with. I know my mind is poison and sometimes I get so trapped within its web that I cannot see a way out. I know that on these days, I am horrible. I am quiet, withdrawn and unloving. And I am sorry for those days; I cannot tell you how many sleepless nights I have had reliving the days where I have accused you of ridiculous things because I am so completely consumed by my thoughts.
But sweet boy, please believe me when I tell you I am trying, for you, I am trying every day to be better.
I’m learning to love myself so that when you hold my face between your hands and whisper that you love me, I believe it.
I am using every ounce of my strength to accept that I am worthy. That you won’t grow tired of battling with my insecurities or worse still, that you won’t wake up one day and see all of the things I so hate about myself.
I am trying to accept that I deserve someone like you.
So please don’t give up on me, not just yet. Keep making me feel like I am fixable, like I am not completely broken. Because with you, it makes sense, this fucked up world.
And with your hand inside mine, I don’t feel so terrified of it, of myself, of my reflection.
But the one thing I am terrified of, the one thing which sucks the air from my lungs and makes me ache in places I didn’t even know I could ache, is the thought of losing you. Of being too broken and too impossible.
Because I can’t lose you.
I won’t survive.