I was taught to assume that everyone was nice, until they weren’t.
You were taught the opposite.
I was taught to give people respect, even when they hadn’t earned it.
You were taught the opposite.
And yet somehow…
We managed to find each other.
I am not very versed in writing about things that are positive, or things that make me happy.
I am good at going through something, and trying to find meaning in it.
I am good at meeting people
and falling in love with them.
Finding something in them that I want them to see.
Growing up, I always attached to people very quickly.
I had girls on my team that I referred to as my best friends that didn’t even invite me to their birthday parties.
I had boys that smiled at me one morning as I was walking to class, and I automatically was planning our future together.
I think that’s why it was so difficult for me (and my family) to digest that I liked women.
I constantly questioned myself:
Am I just looking for attention?
Is it because I don’t get attention from boys?
Do I have low self worth?
Do I think that this is the best I can do?
Was I falling in love with the thought of falling in love?
Perhaps.
But I was taught to assume that everyone was nice, until they weren’t.
And you were taught the opposite.
I was taught to give people respect, even when they hadn’t earned it.
You were also taught the opposite.
And yet somehow…
We managed to find each other.
Somehow, we managed to discover ourselves as we discovered one another.
Somehow, meeting you allowed me to become a person worth introducing.
Somehow, my scars have faded from my arms and legs.
Somehow, I don’t worry about you cheating on me.
Somehow, we got through distance.
Somehow, we got through your name being “it” and “that girl”
Somehow, we got through crying when we were apart and fighting when we were together.
I am not very versed in writing about things that are positive, or things that make me happy.
I am good at going through something, and trying to find meaning in it.
I don’t have enough sunlight to sit here and write all of my “somethings” that led me to you.
All of my “somethings” that bled onto my sheets that you now lay in next to me.
All of my “somethings” that hindered my growth, dimmed my light, and allowed me to question every single aspect about myself.
My sweet girl,
I am sorry that I am not very good at writing about nice things.
It may be because nice enough words have not been spoken yet.
But what I do know, is that I am good at going through something, and trying to find meaning in it.
I am so glad that I found you.
