me & you

Photos via: Katie Stoops | Paperless Post //Kate Spade

i want more now

Photo via: Buenaventura Marco

I’m a hopeless romantic. Always been – I suppose. I was the little girl watching Disney movies alone – wishing, wondering, if there was a prince charming out there for me. An Eric to my Ariel. A Tarzan to my Jane. A Philip to my Aurora. An Aladdin to my Jasmine. A prince to my princess.

I fell in love with everything when I was young. Every boy with curly hair and a genuine smile. Every boy who said hi to me or even took a second glance. I even fell in love with a girl once. I loved everything - especially boys. The way they were faster and stronger than me. The way they teased me and laughed with their entire stomachs. The way they always tried to brave and the few times they were vulnerable.

I can’t recall my first love, or the boy who took my heart first, because I gave it away to every boy I ever met. Monogamy wasn’t something I understood, nor saving and protecting yourself. I just wanted to love, and for their laughs to be because of me. I had my first heartbreak when I was ten. I asked a boy if he wanted to be my boyfriend. The first boy I ever wanted to be mine. He didn’t want to. He said, “I just wanna hang out, you know, not kiss and stuff.” I was gutted. He was the first boy I thought I actually wanted to give all my love to. I got over it after a week.

Then I grew up a bit, hit puberty and all that juicy stuff, and I started to become shy towards boys. I still admired and loved them from a far, but the times when I could just hang out with them were over. I kissed tons of boys though. I can’t recall my first kiss but I kissed a new one every night. I realized that I almost love kissing as much as I love boys - but they sort of go hand in hand I guess.

Then I turned 16 and met a boy who was four years older than me. We loved each other so much. I gave my entire heart to just one person, and that was something new to me. It ended after two years, and it took my almost 6 months to get my heart back in place. I started kissing more boys, doing even more than kissing.

Now I’m twenty – I’ve kissed more boys than I can remember. I’ve loved more boys than I can recall. I want more now. I want what I wanted when I was little. The one true love. The boy who will make me love only him. I want a man – a prince.

somewhere with you

Photo via: We Heart It | Alisa Bobzien

where to from here...

Photo via: shuttermaki

We met in my first year of university. His third year. At first it was nothing but a casual bar hookup. We never spoke other than in a drunk party setting. I never thought anything of it and never imagined we would end up where we are now. He was that guy I always came back to, for some reason. I didn't think I liked him but something kept bringing me back, and I was completely oblivious to it at the time.

Summertime approached and being from separate cities, we didn't speak all summer. I didn't care, I didn't like him.

My second year began and this is where things started to change. I still didn't have feelings for this guy but even after a summer of not speaking, we fell right back into the same old habit of ours. No words spoken aside from the casual chat at the bar and maybe the next morning. But over time I noticed a change. I started to feel that little glow in my heart every time we talked or embraced or held hands. It was like this secret love affair we were having with each other because I know he felt it too, but we wouldn't admit it to ourselves.

Still the year went on and these feelings got stronger, I started caring. I had never really cared before and it was a scary thing. I didn't know how to react, I had no ties on this guy, he was only my bar hookup, but something unexplainable always brought us together. We always had so much fun together and we grew to be great friends. Being two of the biggest introverts I know, neither of us ever broke down our walls to talk about it with each other, let alone our friends. We hid the feelings because I don't think either of us really understood what we were feeling.

Finally the year came to an end and again, we were in separate cities for the summer. Back to the usual routine of not talking because we were distracted by friends, family and fun activities.

Enter my third year of university, and again, it was like this energy that exists between the two of us, like two magnets, pulling us together. This is when I knew I really cared and had accepted the feelings but was still too scared to admit them to him. I had never let myself be vulnerable, I'm honestly so afraid of getting hurt, so I went on for so long not giving in. Eating myself up inside with millions of thoughts swirling around my head. All I wanted was to tell him how I felt but I let fear get the best of me until the last semester of the year… his final semester before graduation.

I finally came to my senses, realizing I was running out of time and let my feelings escape. He felt the same way. I was relieved and happier than I have ever been. We fell into this kind of love I can't even explain. It's like we had loved each other for so long before admitting it that it took no time at all for us to get as close as ever. It was easy and comfortable, we fit so well together, he was perfect for me and I perfect for him.

Third year ended, he graduated and we were lucky enough to finally be living in the same city, working for the summertime. It was all so perfect except for the fact that he was planning on jetting off to the the UK for school come September. I knew this going into the summer, but I took the risk. I knew that spending the summer with him would make our love that much stronger, I knew I would be so deeply in love and that it was going to come to an end, and I'm happy I took the risk, because after living my life fearful of feeling emotion for so long, I finally learned that its not worth it to hide from it. Give in, because you honestly only have so much time to experience it all, life's too short.

So after what was probably the most amazing summer of my life, it is finally coming to an end. We part ways in a weeks time and our goodbye is getting closer and closer.

I think the hardest part is realizing that our love is coming to an end not because we feel any differently, but because it simply won't work with the distance. He is going off to explore the world and I am going back to my final year of university. We are in two completely different places in life and that is what is pulling us apart.

How do you prepare yourself for the worst heartbreak ever? I'm sitting here counting down the days until my heart rips in two. I know I did this to myself, by living in the same city as him and letting myself fall deeper and deeper into love, but its still going to be the hardest, most impossible thing to get over him.

The issue is I don't want to get over him, I don't want to be with anyone else, but who knows when we will ever be in the same city again. I'm trying to be realistic and accept the fact that it simply won't work, but at the same time I think to myself, if it was worth it to take the risk this summer, why the hell wouldn't it be worth it to fight for what we have. I'm at this crossroads and I don't know where to go from here. Our time together is quickly coming to and end and I have no idea what to do.

I guess only time will tell, but that's the worst part of it all, not knowing, and letting the pieces fall where they may.

because you're you

Photos via: Tanya Martova | We Heart It

let him in or leave

Photo via: Jackson Warner Lewis

I’ve never been the type to fall in love, not even the type to care about anyone other than myself. I have been hurt so many times that my only defense is to keep my heart guarded, tucked away where no one can merely even touch it, let alone steal it.

These past couple months the loneliness of living in a new city have slowly crept around me, bringing me to this place of almost desperation to feel something, anything, and this is when I met him.

I work in a little café on my college campus. My friends make fun of me that I should just live at work because I am always there, but honestly it’s probably the best decision since I basically spend every waking moment there. There was this boy who would come in every day to eat. At first I just disregarded it because we are the only place on campus that serves real food, I see the same faces daily, but his always stuck out to me. It was months of seeing this boy morning and afternoon that I finally got the courage to talk to him. After a couple conversations he asked for my number.

Our first date was planned to drink wine on the beach, but when he picked me up it was cold and we both agreed that maybe we should skip that so instead we headed back to his place. I sat on his couch surrounded by his roommates talking about life, while drinking wine. Intrigued by his stories… so distracted by his jawline, I found myself staring at him while his roommates were talking to me, embarrassed by this I would quickly turn and look to them, feeling my face slowly become flushed. I explained to them my fear of the ocean, and my vegan diet. After our conversations began to end in awkward silences, he asked if I would like to take a walk. We walked around his apartment complex, the sexual tension increasing between us both. I remember the wind feeling crisp against my face but his warmth was radiating through my body. We finally made it back to his apartment, the wine beginning to hit me. He told his roommates that we were going to be watching a movie, and without a word I followed him through the hallway and into his bedroom. We laid down in his bed and started the movie on monsters of the deep sea (he thought he was funny, yet I was completely terrified). About 5 minutes in he turned my face toward him and I knew that this is what the rest of the night would consist of. He kissed me like no one ever had before, with a sense of passion and grace. Two hours of making out with this stranger of a boy and I realized that It was time for me to go home. I grabbed his face and told him that I don’t date, and he responded with, “I know that, but how about a second one with me.” Feeling uneasy about the whole situation I kissed him goodbye and walked myself home.

I don’t know why he makes me so uneasy, when he kisses me, he kisses me like he has known me his whole life, he kisses me as he is in love with me. When I was laying in his bed he never let go of me, just held me, like I was his to keep.

My usual response would be to run, but this boy is different... and I'm actually scared to find out why. Should I let him in, or should I leave while I am still ahead.

missing

Photos via: Théo Gosselin | Beside The Willow Tree

that's love

Photo via: Toma EvsuVdo // Everything's magic)

Love isn't the wispy, now-I-love-you-now-I-don't that everyone seems to think.

I have been in love. I still am. He has the bluest eyes you have ever seen and he kisses my forehead and tells me he loves me and I can never get enough of curling up with him in the mornings when we wake up. I hate going an entire day without talking to him. Our lunches together, when we both come home from work, are the highlight of my afternoon. I love watching him move, and the way he asks how I am, to check that I'm really okay.

Oh, yeah. Also we've been married for two years and I'm pregnant with our first baby.

Love doesn't always look like two people drifting in and out of one another's lives. It doesn't look like fuckbuddies and hookups and friend-zones and continual heartbreak. Actually, I don't really think that's love.

Love is absolutely intentional.

I fell head-over-heels for the man who married me. Our parents were friends way back in the day, and he struck up conversation over FB. We had a long-distance relationship for two years of beautifully innocent friendship before we decided that he should visit, to see if this was going anywhere.

In April he visited for four glorious days. He was a perfect gentleman, and asked my parents for permission to court me. He even asked my permission to kiss me, he was being so careful - it was charming and archaic and showed just how much he cared about respecting me and I loved it. When he took my hand in the car my heart melted, because I had just been wishing that he would. Just before he got on the plane, he kissed me for the first time. I couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the day, the imprint of his light beard on my lips, wishing the feeling of his hand on the small of my back pulling me close would never fade.

Four days after he left, I finally got up the courage to tell him I loved him over text message. He said he knew before he left that I did, and sent me a video response telling me that he loved me, too. I have long since lost track of how many times I have watched that video.

When the 4th of July came around we finally arranged for another visit. He had to work, but he flew in over the weekend, to ask my parents for permission to marry me, and to propose. The proposal was a surprise - he had shipped the ring to my house ahead of time to make sure he had it.

He proposed halfway up a cliff on a rocky beach, no one in sight. If you have never been in love, I can never describe to you the feeling of your heart in your throat and the rock in your stomach: it is the most intense joy, the most amazing discomfort, and you can't stop from kissing him, because nothing else matters but this huge love you feel between you, and it's like a gift from God that he loves you back.

After I graduated with my degree, it was my turn to visit him and meet his parents. I visited for two sunny, warm, beautiful weeks, and met his friends, and made out with him on the couch in the evenings... it was bliss. I boarded the plane back and couldn't figure out why I was going back.

We were married one month later. It was a stunning wedding. We honeymooned for a week on the Oregon coast, then he took me back with him halfway across the country to the cute little one-bedroom apartment he had rented for us.

It was during our honeymoon, and shortly afterwards, that I realized just how much I didn't actually know him.

Our long-distance relationship, paired with his short in-person visits, didn't allow for me to experience his moods, his facial expressions, his highs and lows and food preferences and insecurities and frustrations. It all came as a total shock, on top of culture shock (moving from the north to the south is a huge difference in culture) and the loneliness of no friends and no family and suddenly realizing you are in love, and have just married, a stranger.

There were several long nights of misery, of loneliness, of having to learn one another entirely anew and understand how to live together, of learning what the other person needed. It broke me, too many times and for too long.

I chose to love him anyway. Just as he chose to love me. There were lots of personality changes, lots of unmet expectations, lots of surprises about one another, in those first six months. There was even, "No, I had no idea when I married you that you were like this".

But we didn't let that change anything. We chose to keep loving one another, to keep returning to the table, refusing to give up or to let the other person go. We were in it for the long haul. I know lots of people who would have thrown in their cards and walked away.

What we have now is so much stronger for all of that. I love him more than ever, and he is still my best friend. We still have our fights, and after two years it's become "We always fight about this... so what is it that's still not working?" and we keep pursuing the answers.

That's love.

That's why I read some love letters, some breakup letters, some forlorn and "poetic" accounts between lovers of their heartbreak and misery and I think, "What makes you think that's all love is?"

What if love is far more than that? What if it's not just physical attraction, or sex, or strength of emotion, or a really nice guy that makes you feel not-lonely?

What if love is a lifestyle?

What if "love" is a fight to be patient, a choice to remain kind, a refusal to hold grudges or get so easily angered? What if it isn't about pride, but about compassion? What if love can't stand for anything but truth, even when it hurts, and despite the hurt, insists on continuing?

What if love doesn't fade, because you believe that love is so much more than the emotions you feel?

My husband and I have tattooed our wedding rings. Love is not an option, and marriage is a sacrifice to hold it. We are in this together, and, by the grace of God, we will grow old together.

That's love.

for the first time

Photo via: bryony-and-luke

a letter of hope, of desire

Photo via: Lisa Smit

Dear lelove,

I wanted to share with you a goodbye/love letter I got from a very special guy I met on my exchange in England. He wrote this a couple weeks before I left. I will never do him justice, or what he did for me, so the least I could do is show like this what a wonderful person he has been.

My Dearest D,

This is a letter of hope, of desire. Of course there are things that could have been different but life isn't perfect. I hope you think I was good to you, or at very least tried my hardest to be. I think I was, I think I will have no regrets when you leave about the way I acted and the way things played out. I know I will look over these times fondly years after they've gone by. I hope you know I never lied to you about how I felt at the time and about the way things were, and I don't intend to start now.

You're an amazing and beautiful person; I really hope you know that. I see through the way you delicately poke and prod at a character. You don't wish to cause any pain, I'm sure of that at least. You're a fixer like me; you're pretty good at it too. The thing I most wish is that I could find a way to undo the wrongs people have done to you and the things they've said that have caused you to get this impression of yourself which simply isn't true, the process you've started for me, and the process I feel I could help you with too if we had more time, I possibly could tease a little more out of your closed box that I get the impression you’re ready to open up to someone.

It seems as though you're afraid of letting someone get close to you because you're not sure they'll like what they find. I feel so special that I know how to make you feel relaxed and comfortable enough that I've seen the essences of you in those moments, and I fell in love with you a bit D, I'm sure you know that. You aren't a bad person, in fact you're such a good person that you're worried about upsetting someone if they hold what you would believe is a false image of you as a beautiful and kind person. But it isn't a false image, it is what I will always believe to be your true authentic self because you may not be aware, but you can't help but show it even when you're trying your hardest not to.

I'm not saying you're perfect, nobody is perfect and anyone would be very dull if they were, but you tick a lot of boxes, put it that way if you want. I would be so proud to call you my girlfriend, I would be proud to always look out for you and be the one you cry into when you're upset, the one who looks after you when you're ill, the one who you shout at and scald when you're upset and the one who always vouches for you no matter what happens. Am I just some desperate romantic fool? Oh, probably yes, but I hope you know these words are the truest words I can leave you with.

Do you know the definition of "darling" and why I call you that?

(noun)
1. A dearly beloved person
2. One that is greatly liked or preferred; a favourite

You've got to realise that people will hold you in this light as you walk through life, dealing with it isn't easy, I don't deal with it at all well. But just know you deserve it. You're amazing D my darling, please keep this letter to remind you of that, and to remind you that we were once sweethearts so that when were both grown up, successful and happy we'll find each other again and be such simple, honest and beautiful strangers in such a chaotic and overbearing world.

And with regards to myself, you've instilled a lasting confidence in me somehow… I'm not sure what you did, perhaps nothing, maybe I'm too blind to see. Maybe it was just my confidence in that you'd be able to do that for me. All I know is that there was a great deal of pain, which you were there to cause and to remedy. You took me into a very vulnerable state of mind perhaps, a state of mind I had to pick myself up and move on from in order to get on with my life, get on with myself.

During this time I talked about things I've never spoken about with anyone else and you were such a good person for me in that way, so I will always cherish that and I hope to find someone who I can share such relaxation, joy and pallet with again at some point. Although I am quick to care, I am not so quick to trust, so know you are very special in seeing that side of me, as I know I am special in the same way to you.

With the greatest admiration,

M

(a.k.a. Your Mattymatster)

xx

"What is a poet? An unhappy person who conceals profound anguish in his heart but whose lips are so formed that as sighs and cries pass over them they sound like beautiful music"- Søren Kierkegaard

better than anything else

Photos via: Emily Cain | We Heart It

flight risk

Photo via: buenaventura marco

I'm 18 and naive. We've only been together for a little over a week and I'm absolutely in love with you. You are my first so I guess I don't really know what love is since there's nothing to compare it to. But I know I'm not the type to say I love someone until I can be sure that I love them flaws and all. Though it's too early to see your flaws yet, the beauty of your personality reassures me that I can love you even after discovering your flaws. That's how I know I really do love you. You are crazy, wild, confident, truthful and most of all... selfless.

But here's the twist in this perfect fairytale. Because nothing really is ever perfect. You're perfect to me, but I'm not. I've warned you about my insecurities and the story of my 'aunty' before we became official. I told you how my uncle was unfaithful towards my aunty, twice, despite being so in love with her, and that she was so broken by it that that she wanted to kill herself. I told you she was like a mother to me, so it really hurt me too. But the truth is, it wasn't my aunty, it was my very own mother. And yes, it was my very own father who did it to her, twice, in a gap of twenty years.

My mother told me how much my father loved her in the beginning, how he pursued her like a crazy person. And how he stabbed himself with a knife in front of her when she wanted to break up. Yet he could be unfaithful. The first time, I wasn't born yet. The second time was last year. I was 17 and I witnessed it all. The way she cried like hell, the way she completely lost it. The way she turned to me for comfort leaving me with no one to turn to. And she told me it hurt more than dying. I cried, so many times, without anyone knowing. It was then that I feared love, I feared relationships. I had a problem trusting boys. I became very pessimistic with the idea of couples. I see them holding hands and I think to myself, 'How long would that last?'. But I hated myself for that. For being so damn pessimistic.

And then you came along. The first time we found out we had mutual feelings for each other, I declined your idea of a relationship. I was scared. But afterwards I realised I really did like you, very very much. And I cried, not for you, but because of you. Because you made me realise I had a problem. I realised I wasn't ever going to let anyone into my life at this rate. I started thinking that I was going to die alone. You gave me another chance and that's when I told you the story of my 'aunty'. Yes I lied, but I didn't want you to think badly about my father if we do end up going really far with our relationship, which I hope we will. Yes he made horrible mistakes but he's still my father. But I still wanted you to somehow understand the extent of my problem.

So we took this precious second chance and became official. And last night was amazing, we had dinner and then you took me back home. You knew my curfew and you respected my mother's wishes without her needing to express them to you. We walked around my neighborhood, climbing up structures, playing in the playground at night, and stargazing around the lake. I saw my first shooting star with you. It was just such perfect timing. We played soccer in the dark with the drink bottles left on the field and then tag, running around like little kids. I hugged you before I went back into the house, and I didn't want to let go, but I had to. I kissed you on the cheek and you kissed me on mine. Our first dinner date, I thought would end with my first kiss. But we left it at that, and I took my bag along with the framed photo of us that you gave to me as a present. I thought I had finally taken my walls down for you.

But today I went for lunch with my mum, we ended up talking about relationships. Her eyes were very vacant, because she was worried about me. I knew she had always wanted me to be in a relationship only until I am in my mid 20's, and so did I. But things like this can't be planned. She was worried that I wouldn't be able to keep a relationship alive for long enough, that I'm starting too early. She said if I was to marry you tomorrow then she wouldn't be as worried. But I told her marriage is just a certificate. I tried to reassure her. There were so many things she worried about. One was you leaving me brokenhearted, at an age when no one will want me anymore. She always told me how men's value increases with age and women's fall, and I understood that. Because we're Asian.

But then there's also something deeper. That was when she brought up her experience with my dad again. How right now the guy will do anything for you until you get married. She told me sternly that if anything ever happens, always remember I have my brothers and her. Because "when you're in the moment, everything is blank." She feared I would want to kill myself. Like she had in the past. Our talk scared me. And it sent my walls shooting up again. And I'm so sorry for that. It's not fair on you. Because it's got nothing to do with anything you have done, or not done. I'm sorry that I have all this sh*t that has happened in my life, making it so hard for me to love you. When it should be easy.

I shouldn't think too much in the future because the anticipation is most likely worse than what I'm actually anticipating. Every now and then I have these moments when I just want to leave you, because I'm scared. I'm a flight-risk. But I know I never could just leave you. I'm scared to show you that I love you but you seem to understand me and accept it, which makes me love you even more. And I want to say I'm sorry. For being so messed up. Sorry that I can't love you the way you love me. I hope I'm strong enough to get pass all this, that I don't ruin this beautiful thing that we have, and that one day I can truly love you the way you deserve to be loved.

fall for you

Photo via: cest la chat noir + We Heart It

maybe

Photo via: Masha Demianova

There we were, lying there, only skin between us, incandescently happy. I had been in the arms of men before, but you were different. The way our bodies entangled. I could lay in your warmth forever. Normally passion overwhelmed us, but this time we lied there, motionless. We stole kisses back and forth, our lips barely touching. As soft music filled your room our eyes remained shut, our hands surrounded one another, and yet held frozen. It was perfect. You slowly moved your hands to gently hold my face, then you said it: maybe. It was evident your feelings were hard to communicate in that moment. Yet the words began to stumble out of your mouth nonetheless: I think I maybe falling in love with you. Before the words left your lips I knew. As I held your head in my hands I kissed you. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or lust, but of unpretentious happiness. Because I think, maybe, I’m falling in love with you too.

more than pizza and tumblr

Photos via: Meredith Elizabeth + We Heart It

thanks for the lesson

Photo via: Marija Strajnic

I've been in California for a little less than a month now. Everything is still so surreal, but the one thing I know is that I'm still lonely. I knew I would be. If I've learned anything at all, it's that our problems follow us wherever we go. I'm not saying I'm unhappy, it's just that being in a new place makes you want to explore with someone you love and when you don't have someone, their absence is magnified. In my case, I miss you (or most likely just the thought of you) in my quiet times when I'm not trying to catch the train or plan a weekend activity; mostly when I'm walking the city or looking at a particularly beautiful view of the Bay. And I think my mind only drifts to you because there hasn't been anyone else, even though our relationship never encountered comparable beautiful moments in its short and uneventful time span. I go to you because there is no one else to go to and, because of that, I romanticize you unfairly.

I toyed with the idea of online dating again, just to meet new people in the area. Last night, I finally did it, but I'm pessimistic. Isn't it sad that I was just hoping to see your face? The face that broke my heart almost immediately and kept breaking it continuously for more than a year? I guess that's what selfishness does; not just on your part, but on mine as well. Nothing good at all came from what happened to us (or what happened to me), but I still see your face and care about what you think of me. How does that work? How does someone with a child, a daughter no less, do that to a woman? I was under the assumption that a single father with a young daughter may have some heightened awareness as to the impact of their actions in regards to the opposite sex, but I assumed wrong. I just pray (and I don't ever pray) that no man ever treats your daughter like you treated me because it would break her heart and make her cry. I'm someone's daughter if that puts anything into perspective for you.

So yes, I fell for you. Not hard or head over feet, but I fell accordingly. I fell responding to the actions and signals you put out there for me to reciprocate. I'd fallen harder and more passionately and wildly before, but I was growing up and liked the comfort of what you laid down for me. But the exact hour I rested my guard down, you slipped out the floor from underneath me. For the next year, I grappled to restore my footing and create a stable foundation for myself yet again. I tried to date and date like it was the latest hipster trend just to forget you, but I cut everyone out the moment I realized I was just trying to mask the hurt I carried. So I stayed alone. There was really no point if I wouldn't give anyone their rightful chance. I think I might still be at that point, but hopefully just a little less so. For my sake at least. There's still something in me that has optimism. I mean, there must be since I decided to move 3,100 miles away. That must say something, right?

Goodbye and take care. I doubt I shall ever hear from you again, let alone see your face again. I know you moved on ages ago since, from your perspective, you didn't have much to move on from. You may even be seeing someone since you decided to stop responding to me and made up excuses on how you never received my messages. And the fact that you couldn't say goodbye to me. I think that may have broke my heart all over again. I didn't just move to a new apartment, I moved across the country and you couldn't say goodbye. Two-weeks notice and I barely heard from you. I can't really say I expected any different. It followed perfectly the path our foundation laid out -- no proper goodbye, no closure, no nothing. The last image I have of you is walking away from me without so much as a wave. I think then I knew that it'd be the last time. It's fitting now.

If you ever read this, I hope this finds you well and happy and content in life. I hope you are better able to deal with life's low blows and swift kicks; I sure hope I am. Either way, take care. Thanks for the lesson.

wait for it

Photo via: Ilona Flanagan

seeing is believing

Photo via dearlleila

Do you know what it’s like to long for affection and love from the person who has your heart?
To hang off every word they say, every move they make..
In the beginning its okay... two years later... a girl wants and needs more.
Sometimes when I see a couple in public showing each other affection I cry.
I think because it's like seeing your dreams in front of you but they’re not quite your own.
You’re not that girl, he’s not that guy.

Is that the answer to the question which repeatedly runs through my head?
“I’m not that girl, he’s not that guy”
And if that is the answer... What do I do?
Do I accept him for the guy he is and try and be the girl I need to be?
Is it so bad to long for late night chats, random “I love yous” and kisses on my forehead?
Does that make me needy?
Sometimes I feel ashamed. I feel like I should be stronger.
He regularly tells me he loves me. I know he does.

But seeing is believing. I used the analogy the other night that a paraplegic may know how to skateboard but it doesn’t necessarily mean that he will ever be able to show you. At the time it made sense to me, but now that I have retyped it, it makes no sense at all.

Basically what I was saying is that I need to be shown that I am loved.
Then I wonder if he was that kind of guy would I love him?
He says he will try, he has said it over the past two years but nothing has ever changed.

I’m not sure that I am happy. In fact, sometimes I feel like I am miserable. But I love him more than I have ever loved.

Just a girl, standing in front of a guy, begging him to love her.
.

on my lips

Photo via: Amanda Grace Finkel + We Heart It