thewriterain

i used to hate time passing, of feelings fading. i used to be terrified of falling out of love, not understanding that it was a choice i had to make to stay, rather than letting the feelings sway me. i used to let the feelings take the sails, going wherever the winds of love take me.

i look at you now, and i know for sure the feelings i had for you at the beginning are different than the ones i have now. what was once adrenaline is now slower, softer. what was once anticipation, sweaty hands and uncontrollable heartbeat is now calmer, quieter. the past version of me would have concluded that i was no longer in love.

the present version of me is sure she still is.

you told me i was many of your firsts: first kiss, first love, first person to come home to. but, you know, for me these roles are reversed, for all my standard firsts were not with you. admittedly, they're credited to people who treated me badly compared to the way you do, people who are no longer in my life.

firsts are special, unique. they're something that can only happen once to a person, and then they're no longer considered a first. it saddens me slightly that you are not any of my firsts, especially since i make up so many of yours.

but let me tell you this:

you are not my first, but i sincerely hope you are my last. at the end of the day, i want it to be you i come home to. i want it to be you, regardless of the billions of people available in this world. you may not be my first kiss. but i want you to be the last. you may not be the first person i've fallen asleep next to, but i want you to be the last. i want us to last.

lately i've been feeling stuck, like we're on an endless loop of trying to understand each other and yet somehow not quite getting there. lately i've been feeling like the person i thought you were and wanted you to be isn't the person standing in front of me nowadays.

i want to tell you that this isn't up to my standards anymore, that things feel lacking, that i keep trying and trying to make you see it but fall short every single time. i want to say it's okay that you're comfortable, and i know with comfort comes less effort and that's normal and valid and true.

but where is that person?

where is the person who bought me gifts just because, who spent time planning things i would like to do, who was considerate of my boundaries and communicated every small thing so i didn't have to overthink and worry? where is the person who bought me flowers, sang me to sleep, hugged me every time we got home because you knew i was tired and liked affection?

where did our random conversations go? where did the reassurances go? where did the person who was not afraid to say things to me, clear and open go?

why do i spend more time worrying and crying than smiling at you?

i also know it's not all you, and there are aspects of myself i should improve too. i'm temperamental, and when i'm upset i shut the world out until i'm ready to face it. i should find other ways to communicate with you, especially when my throat closes up and words get stuck on their way out. maybe i, too, should put more effort into appreciating you and planning things for us to do.

but all you do is point out how much i use my phone these days (not thinking of how it's because we just don't talk much anymore and i get anxious; my phone is a crutch during times of awkwardness); you criticise me for trying to communicate my issues (and then wonder why i don't want to talk); you assume things without asking me first (and it bothers me; i don't mind if you want to do things for me but i would prefer to know things).

i hope things get better because breaking up with you would break me. i get upset and angry but at the end of the day i don't want to leave you and i don't want you to leave me.

please. do something; say something; risk something.

i never realised the power of kindness until i was on the receiving end of it. i never quite knew what it was like to have people want to share things with me and ask me to hang out with them. these things are not commonplace in my life.

but now it is. and i realise now that kindness you put out to the world will make its way back to you.

even if it takes years.

even if you struggle.

eventually, eventually, it will all be worth it.

you tell me i'm emotional and suddenly i feel like i'm 10 years old again. i know every time you say emotional you're referring to people who are unable to control their emotions properly, and this stings. i am...difficult to deal with at times. maybe it's selfish of me to think you were okay with that difficulty, that i could feel whatever it is i wanted and you would still be here.

you tell me you didn't mean it that way and this stings too. of course it's my fault, i took it too personally. it makes me want to hide these feelings, scared you will call me out again on what i simply think is human.

that's a lie, by the way. i have always been the kind of girl that keeps count, that may not say anything but tracks the passing seasons quietly, grateful for another month that passes.

when i was younger, it was an obsession. it's been a month, wow! i would say to my friends, to the person i was dating. as i got older, the obsession lessened -- can you believe it's been 6 months? -- but persisted.

maybe because when i was younger i was acutely aware that many relationships don't last long, and i wanted to make sure every moment counted. maybe when i was younger i knew subconsciously that these weren't going to be long relationships, because it never occurred to me that i would count the years instead of months. i think i always knew that the relationships were temporary and would eventually end.

when i made it to a year with one of my exes, it felt like such an achievement. a year, i'd thought, but it had taken too much effort and felt like it had taken ridiculously long to get there. i'd wondered, at the time, if it was supposed to feel like that.

you asked me once if i counted and i said no. a half-lie, because i do, but it doesn't consume me as much as when i was younger. i think it's worth noting, but doesn't need to be celebrated with large gestures. with you it seems silly to keep track of months when i look at you and see years, when i can picture lifetimes with you. (i think i would find you in every universe we live in, but that's a story for another day). with you, it felt like i blinked and half a year had passed us by; was it not just yesterday i stole your plushie and fell asleep on your shoulder? was it not recently that i was secretly trying to spend time with you in hopes that something might happen?

oh. ouch.

"that's not what i meant, it's just bad phrasing."

i understand. never mind that the words stung like a tiny million paper cuts.

"i meant that everyone has their prime and looks less pretty over time."

i am 20.

call me egotistical but i don't think i'm past my prime yet. call me vain but i think i grew up and look better than my younger self. call me shallow but i care about how i look, about what i wear.

tell me how do i recover from this. how do i look in the mirror and not cringe at my features. lately i've been trying out makeup but now i shudder at the thought of putting it on. opening my closet and choosing what to wear doesn't bring me joy, because tell me what is the point in caring what i wear when it won't change anything.

my self esteem was never good but it was getting better and now it feels like i have to start over. when i was 17 i hated looking in the mirror because i used to be covered in scars and bruises. when i was 18 i started shedding these marks and leaving it in the past. when i turned 19 i looked at myself and felt beautiful for the first time in years.

now i am 20, but i may as well be 17 again.

"...i'm sorry."

gotta get it in my head to not let it get to my head and to breathe deep and let it go.

i am the sort of person that's once bitten, twice shy. if i ever think i've done something wrong, said something that wasn't right, you can bet your inheritance i'd never do it again. i'm a people-pleaser to a fault; i would sooner sacrifice pieces of myself to make others feel whole instead of saying no. i would rather bury these feelings in deep than allow them to surface and potentially hurt someone.

flaws, flaws. why do i have so many of them? why do people even want to be my friend, or have me in their life?

lately i've been wondering if i deserve this patience, this reverence from you. when you say you miss me, it makes me happy that you do, but there's an ache in my chest when i see the look on your face.

when i start to feel this way, i go outside or look out my window and stare at the sky. you know how we both like to look at pretty skies? whether day or night, sunny or not, there is a sort of peace in knowing that no matter how separated we are, we are under the same sky and stars.

and when i start to doubt, i replay your voice messages and listen to how gentle you sound. i let your words wash over me until i am reassured once more, and i start hoping again.

one day. one day we'll get to see each other and i will hold you and feel comfy again and watch that smile of yours spread across your face right in front of me. i will kiss you and squeeze your hand and say i missed you, my love.

so please,

stay.

i still want to come home to you.

i want to wake up next to you,

and fall asleep in your arms, all comfy,

and squeeze your hand thrice.

i want to hug you and have you lift me up,

and tug on your sleeve and go, ‘nee, nee’.

and tell you dumb jokes.

i want to watch you smile at me all the time,

and talk about our days in terms of stabs.

and yes,

i want to keep living with you.

he does love me, and i think it will be very hard for me to doubt that.

all the proof i need is the way he sounds over the phone, happy to hear my voice.

all the proof i need is the way he hugged me after not seeing me for two days, and the way i instantly saw him smile at me.

he smiles a lot more in my presence. i have no idea what i do or how i'm doing it but it is an honour to even bring a smile to someone's face.

i was shy when i first saw him again, him walking through the core to find me.

i missed him very much, but i have a tendency to block those emotions out when i want to focus. but when i saw him it was like something clicked and it felt like coming home.

being in his arms again, cuddling in my bed, felt like coming home. and i think maybe, just maybe, love isn't grand gestures or adrenaline or sweaty palms and fast heartbeats.

maybe love is him saying, 'welcome home, my love' as he reaches to pull me in his arms after a long day. and maybe love is me telling him 'good job' after a long day, and kissing his forehead.

i'm watching him sleep as i eat cereal, and suddenly i feel very very fond of him in ways i neither expected nor foresaw.

he looks so peaceful, wrapped up in blankets and i just know when i return to sleep again, he will roll over and pull me into his arms. whether he is conscious or not about this is a different story. the fact that he can do so unconsciously makes me feel that even in his sleep he wants me near.

me too. i always want to have him near me.

he always looks so soft for me, and when i rest my hand against his cheek, he always kisses the palm of my hand. i don't know if he knows that it is a gesture that makes me want to cry, because it is so, so gentle.

as someone who has struggled her whole life to find someone who will be gentle with me after the shitty relationships i have endured, this means a lot to me in ways i know people will never fully understand.

he is not perfect.

this relationship is not perfect.

but we are two people who are always trying, always striving to not take each other for granted, always having patience for one another.

and that, to me, is already more than i could ask for.

maybe my standards have dropped but he is redefining what my standards are.

i am not used to small, random gestures. he buys me small things to cheer me up. he thanks me, after i drive for him, after i do small things that i do not think are worth thanks but he does so anyways. he asks, 'you don't mind right?' before doing something that might make me uncomfortable.

he says small things add up and i never understood till i took a step back and saw the bigger picture.

and the bigger picture is this:

i have always struggled with relationships because i always ended up compromising a part of myself.

but around him i am fully, fully myself. no mask. no holding back parts of myself i was ashamed to show people. no having to beg for my space if i want it.

ache and ache and ache. i can't get rid of its persistent gnawing. i can feel myself slipping, toeing the line between consciousness and endless, dreamless sleep. until--

it may have only been two nights ago, and logic tells me i shouldn't, especially due to the unexpected consequences, but something in me makes me want to try again.

maybe it's less about desire and more about my wanting to be near you. to spend time with you in this way. maybe it's because i adore affection from you. i daydream, sometimes, about kissing you, about the way your hands and lips wander across my skin, about the intense emotion it invokes within me.

alas, i can't read your mind - i don't know if this urge engulfs you the way it does for me sometimes. and in a way i feel so horribly guilty about it all. it's not all i want; it is something i can live without if i needed to. but you appear to never desire it the way i do and because i love you -- because of all things, i respect you -- i shove these feelings down until i can feel them no longer.

except the entwined heat is getting more pronounced and the longing is not so distant anymore. you get up, and the sunlight saturates you in a certain way that makes something tighten in my stomach. your spine arches as you stand up fully; the curve of your neck tilts just so.

how do i explain that i want your fingers splayed across my waist, tracing along my stomach. how do i begin to describe my urge to have you beside me, above me, underneath me; anywhere, really, that puts your skin on mine. how do i say that you make me want. and want is such an intangible, fickle thing -- something i don’t make a habit of feeling -- and yet here i am, hands outstretched to grab you and tug you closer to me. 

but you turn and you raise your eyebrows at me in question and i try to dispel these feelings. i shake my head. you turn back, and the emotions return.