🎀 Sweet Disaster 🎀

No te dejes llevar por lo que dicen. Esa chica es dinamita pura. Mírala bien, habla con ella, analízala. Te vas a sorprender. La gente que no la conoce suele ponerla en un concepto tan diferente al que en realidad es. Ella es un desastre. Pero de esos desastres bonitos. Va a iluminar tu vida con su risa y su carisma, y sus bromas y su locura, y sus estupideces y sus comentarios sarcásticos y su talento natural para ayudar y aconsejar a quienes quiere, e incluso a los que no. Mírala bien, mírala a los ojos y descubre que sus ojos son más expresivos de lo que crees. Tiene una mirada profunda, misteriosa, atrayente. Va a lograr volverte loco, porque así es ella, pero te hace volverte loco por hacerla sonreír todas las veces que te sea posible. Aún no tienes idea de lo que esa chica te hace sentir cuando te mira, ni cuando te sonríe a ti, (aunque no le guste su sonrisa) no tienes idea de como te hace sentir cuando hablas con ella, y la ves y la escuchas hablar de sus pasiones y de cómo se cayó a los 6 años. Con ella puedes hablar de lo que sea, siempre tendrá algo que decir al respecto. El problema inicial será que tome confianza y comience a hablar contigo, pero una vez la tome, no se callará nunca. Cuídala, cuídala mucho y protégela. Sé que parece tan fuerte, pero necesita sentir por una vez en la vida que no está sola, y que tiene alguien a su lado que luchará con ella las batallas. Quiérela, quiérela mucho, pero esto ni siquiera lo tengo que decir, se hace inevitable no quererla. Y no te agobies por el tiempo, quiérela todo el tiempo que la vida se los permita. Y lo digo porque es de las chicas con las que la vida solo te dejará un tiempo, algunas serán tan eternas como breves.

“You don’t love him.” he challenges, a small smirk appearing on his thin lips. “Excuse me?” “You can’t.” “He makes me happy,“ I retort.  I cross my arms and stare defiantly up at him. “Sure.” He shrugs. “I didn’t say he didn’t. But you don’t love him. He doesn’t get under your skin the way I did.” “That’s a good thing.”   “You keep lying to yourself. You say he makes you happy, but it’s not the happiness that I made you feel. It’s not the tingle in your fingers and the butterflies in your stomach. You like him cuz he’s safe. He won’t hurt you. He’s smart and funny and kind, but he’s oh so safe.”   “Safe is a good thing.”  I nod at him firmly. “Not for you. I can see it in your eyes. You want recklessness. You want fiery passion. You want danger. In fact, I think you need it. You thrive on it.” He steps closer, breath warm on my face. One hand slips gingerly around the small of my back and the other rests on my cheek. My breath catches in my throat. He leans down, lips just brushing my ear.  My skin prickles with goosebumps, and a smile sneaks it’s way onto my face. “See? I told you.”

I was so desperate for attention, so desperate to feel loved and needed by someone that I would settle for just about anybody. Anyone who would show the slightest interest in me, even if I knew deep down that they would end up hurting me. I just wanted love…any form of it…even the kind that was not good for me.

Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. The kisses, the “I miss you” hugs, the cuddling, the love. Everything about falling in love is what makes a person remember how great it feels to have butterflies in your stomach and to have your heart beat so fast that your chest is going to explode. Being in love with someone is amazing. But being in love with your best friend, god that is fucking the best thing I could ever ask for. Being in love with the person that makes you laugh so hard that you nearly have snot coming out your right nostril and makes your stomach turn inside out. Being in love with the person that you share secrets with and gossip about people with, the person that says “fuck her baby, she don’t know a damn thing” kind of best friend. The person that you can lay next to at night and can’t sleep until 3 am because you were talking about how people can’t learn their damn differences between they’re, their, and there, and then laugh about it. The person that you argue with about what kind of food you want to eat, or who’s going to be the one to get up from the bed and turn off the light. The person that you can lick their face and they won’t look back at you with a confused face, but sticks their finger up your nose. The person that won’t only being the shoulder to cry on, but the shoulder that will bring you back up and make you stronger than before. The person that will tell you whats wrong and whats bothering them instead of being distant and ignore the situation. Loving someone that you can share memories and laughs with, god it is beautiful. Being in love is great, don’t get me wrong. But being in love with your best friend, that is the most wonderful thing I could ever ask for.

I miss you, And not in a “it’s one in the morning, I’m so lonely, looking through old pictures” kind of way. I miss you, In a “my friends are all laughing, and so am I, but somehow you still haven’t left my mind” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “someone asked me how you were today and I realized I didn’t know the answer” kind of way. I miss you, In a “nobody has brought you up in months, but I still tell stories about you” kind of way. I miss you, And not in a “it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m alone” kind of way. I miss you, In a “you did well on a test and I want to be the first person you tell” kind of way. I miss you. I don’t just miss the idea of you. I miss you.

If we break up, I want closure. None of this bitter high school mentality that usually follows after someone leaves. I want a long talk about what went wrong, why we couldn’t fix it, and how we’ll move on afterward. I want to know how I made you feel and what thought-process led you to the decision that you’re making. Because if I spent a fraction of my life devoted to loving you, you can’t expect me to let you go without any explanation as to why you’re going in the first place. If I love you, there will always be a piece of me that loves you. So let’s talk it through and forgive each other, neither of us are perfect and we’re both still learning how to love. And that’s okay, it is. But instead of seeing each other the next day and awkwardly pretending we weren’t ever anything at all, let’s forgive each other now and move on. Make peace.

Se le hizo tan fácil dejar de hablarme, de verme, de escucharme, de quererme; que ahora estoy seguro que nunca sintió ni la mitad de lo que dijo sentir.

Ya no debo amarte y entender, que no soy tu destino

You.