A year ago, you didn’t merely come into my life. You joked and laughed your way into what I can only now call a too-normal existence. I was not ready, but it didn’t matter. There you were. I was instantly smitten. And so a year of internal struggles, denial, and an everyday dose of You’re-Stupid-and-Dense Talk from friends began.
I was winning in the beginning. Someone would throw the Destiny card at me and I would gladly lash back my People-have-a-choice defense. Another would cleverly point out that I have fallen, and she, victorious, for having predicted correctly. But I would rise up to the challenge and say that I have not, in fact, fallen. I was thinking clearly and had a lot of facts to back me up, namely: Time, Distance and Logic. I have not fallen, I would say. I am on top of things. I can see clearly from my point of view and I am nowhere near the bottom. It became a ruthless fight of who liked whom and why, at which point I stopped and reassessed the situation.
Somewhere along the way, it got more and more difficult to justify things on my end. I could feel things inside me shift. I could sense change. Logic began to betray me. I have never felt like this before. I have loved others, and others have claimed they loved me. But I have never had someone sincerely—in his own quiet, perceptive way—figure me out. Not point out obvious things such as, “hey, you write,” or “wow, you really like books. Salinger is great”. I feel as if those observations take no effort at all. But you. You know things about me I didn’t know you even notice. And why would you, I ask myself more often than I would care to admit. Sometimes, it feels as if you know me more more than I know you. And that’s saying something. I thought I had secrets, but you are reticent extraordinaire. But let me tell you something. If actions speak louder than words, yours are deafening. Others could sing the sweetest songs, while you just stand there and smile—and you would still have my heart.
So, today is a momentous day. I am allowing myself to feel and to fall—for real—and still retain sanity at the same time. I should be clear that I am still not ready to take the long road ahead. I want nothing to do with commitment and that’s just the way it is. I’m not sure if I will be ready tomorrow or the day after that. Maybe I will never be ready again and today will always be all that we have. But that’s okay.
Today, I acknowledge defeat. I admit, I love you.