It’s funny, you know, when pieces of life seem to seamlessly melt into one another. How tragic it is that one life doesn’t always seem to fit together. We can only work for so long at something before we have to let it go. Simultaneously beautiful and tragic: things fall into place when I don’t strangle them, a life lesson I’ve learned since the days lengthened in June.
Thank you, summer, for reminding me what it feels like to live.
I’ve had two arms around my waist regularly, and I warned the owner of every one of my flaws from day one. Risky? Maybe. But when you’ve lived the life I have, you don’t have time for the butterfly and stress-inducing games of courtship.
“I’m broken,” I said.
“You’re beautiful,” he replied.
That’s not all it took. That’s not all it will take. I’m still working.
But I don’t have nightmares when I’m in his arms, even on the days when I move them away from my neck in fear. When I say, “I’m sorry. I just need time,” he tells me he has plenty of time to give, so he waits in doorways, through breathless moments when I’m seconds away from running, and reminds me that I know where he lives when I’m ready to come back. That’s all I need to hear in order to stay.
He uses double negatives more than I’d like him to, but fuck-it-all if he isn’t smarter than me. I love watching him solve equations in his mind, whether they’re mathematical or mental or both.
And he’s got me. In ways that make me more vulnerable than I’ve been in the last 3 years.
“I don’t deserve you,” I tell him.
And he laughs and says, “You deserve more than you’ll ever understand.”