For Her

For anyone who followed the contents of this blog, we have been together for over a year now. We’re both much older now from when I started this to let out the feelings and a lot has changed in the best ways. Sometimes I forget how much I pined for her now that our relationship has become so normal and comfortable. She’s my everything and I love her more deeply now then I have ever before. I am unbelievably and undoubtedly one of the lucky ones.

There is not one word, nor a thousand, that could paraphrase how badly I want her next to me now.

Kissing her. Ahhhhhhhhhh.

I am so quite literally addicted to her. Being around her, touching her more, cuddling her more changes my mood, makes me happier. She gives me something to trust and being around her creates more serotonin in my life.

She’s my girlfriend now. I can’t believe it actually happened, it’s like a dream.

When you fall in love with someone, you give them your heart. To cherish. To protect. And most importantly, to break.

We both love each other so much. I know that, cause we’ve told each other. We tell each other all the time and we act like it too. I know how much we love each other. The problem is figuring out the right way to love each other that’s best for the both of us. The love that lets us both feel comfortable and true to ourselves. The love that doesn’t ruin anything in the long run. The love that doesn’t hurt either of us. The love that meets in the middle.

Her. Her clothing, her family, her dog, her makeup style, her shoes, her music taste, her favorite movies, her nervous ticks, her hair, her hats, her room, her jewelry, her glasses, her flaws, her eyes, her body, her joy, her smile, her laugh, her stare, her kindness, her heart, her love. Her.

We’re really happy when we’re together. We smile and we laugh and listen to music. We trade glances and run away giggling and watch stupid videos. We look at each other and trade small touches, nervously. Our moments when we’re together, and bringing each other joy, and meeting in the middle, put me over the moon. It’s everything to be happy with her.

I don’t want to be in love with her. It’s an inconvenient situation to love her but I can’t stop. When I see her sing or dance or even just smile I fall in love with her all over again. When I hear her laugh or watch her tell the same story again it’s hopeless to resist her. I’ve tried so hard not to love her, but every time time I see her, I know I’m addicted.

She wore light colors today when she usually wears dark. It made her look younger and it was a great thing to see her beauty in a new way. I wish she was more comfortable in light clothes because it really does just annunciate different parts of her gorgeousness.

She made pancakes in my kitchen in sweatpants and a sweatshirt. I nearly died.

When she’s asleep, I see her youth. I never understood when people said that sleeping makes people look peaceful, they’re just sleeping. With her, I get it. She falls into a neutrality and naivety that allows me to picture her and only her. Her dreams, her fears, her beauty, her story, it’s all on display in her peaceful vulnerability of rest.

I see pieces of everyone I’ve ever loved in her, blending together like a symphony, while her own set of quirks makes her unique.

She is my home, my relief, and my clarity. My soul is restless when she’s not by my side. She’s like my air, like the calm and pleasure you get from a deep breath. She helps me understand things about myself that push me forward in my everyday life.

I want her domestic life and tender affection. I want movie nights with her little brother and family dinners with her parents. I want arms around each other, listening to music, half asleep. I want to get her her favorite Starbucks order and write a love poem on it in sharpie. I want to watch all of her home videos and talk about what a cute kid she was. I want to kiss her freckles on her upper left cheek and tell her everything I love about her. I want to watch her try to remember dances from her old studio. I want to shop with her and watch her try on different clothes. I want to be with her at night, with a makeup free face and her hair pulled back. I want to watch her favorite tv shows and listen to her talk about the things that excite her. I want to cook with her, dancing around each other, peaking over shoulders and guiding whisk hands. I want to sit on her bed, listening to music while she showers and then comes out in pajamas with wet hair. I want to braid her hair and ask her mundane questions like her favorite candle sent and favorite ice cream topping. I want all of her.