What I Really Mean To Say

I. This Is Not A Love Poem

Cynical seems a little harsh but guarded doesn’t sound right either and daddy issues is far too cliché. Let’s go with cautious, realistic, or wary; I could list a thousand different adjectives as my defense, each one more logical than the first.

I prefer my head and heart anchored nicely to the ground thankyouverymuch and love sends both flying. That mushy gushy Disney princess stuff paints a  beautiful picture but my veins do not pump royal blood.

Leaving is easy and loving is hard and everyone just wants an easy life.

Besides, love is just a choice anyway. And I’m choosing to avoid it.

II. A Definition

Love is the feeling in the pit of your stomach wedged right between elation and terror (and it can easily be confused with nausea).

Love is the overlapping part of a Venn diagram of your favorite things and of everything that drives you crazy.

Love is rolling your eyes so much that you’re sure they’re gonna get stuck.

Love is getting frustrated and hanging up the phone just to call back and get mad all over again.

Love is singing in the car to songs you don’t know.

Love is a steady hand.

Love is a secret smile.

Love is a long drive home.

Love is that feeling when time catches for just a second and suddenly you can’t remember any bad thing ever happening.

Love is broken walls and upheld promises.

Love is giving up and letting go.

Love is holding on.

For years, I believed love was a choice. A completely conscious decision, a purposeful action. And it is. But it isn’t. And it’s so much more.

III. To The Man Who Changed Everything

I am terrified.

I was perfectly content to go my whole life without saying those three little words.

But you have ruined my high tower, dismantling it brick by brick, and I can no longer hide away, silent.

So I’ve been telling you without really telling you because if I never actually say it out loud than I won’t ever hear the silence in response.

Every time I’ve said “I’m so proud of you” “I’m praying for you” “You look nice today” “You’re the sweetest” “You’re too good to me” I’ve meant something else.

When you do something ridiculous and I just about cry laughing, my heart jumps to my throat and I want more than anything to blurt it out, but fear stifles the sentiment.

I hope you’ve felt it anyway.

In the car, your hand on mine, at church praising together, in the stupid little bets we make, in every moment we get to spend together. I hope you’ve felt my unspoken words.

I say “I hate you” a lot because it’s so much easier than saying what I actually want to say.

What I want to say is that you changed everything. And nothing at the same time because you fit into my life in a way I never thought possible. You are both the craziest and most logical thing I’ve ever done. You make me feel like the person I’ve always wanted to be. And for that, I hate you.

But of course, what I mean to say is, I love you.

And I choose you.

And I love you.




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