You once sent me a text, it's forever locked into my phone. It read "I promise not to make you regret loving me". This came after two of the possible worst scenarios in our relationship. I look at it everyday, and I hope you believe it, like I do.
Drunk, late at night after our double date I sit. Asleep, unshakeable and determined you lie in my bed. All I can think about is the words that were spoken, that won't come alive tonight. Conversations about showering, and dancing. The dirty sex, and the heartfelt confessions. None of which mean anything anymore. I look upon your Facebook as normal, to browse previous posts that remind me of times where you told the world you loved me, and to look upon pictures, saving the ones where you look the happiest, almost to give me a goal to strive for. This is who I want to help you become. Instead I am met with everything that screams insecurity. I get he's in your circle of friends, he's your best friend, he's your co-worker, he's your whatever. What I don't get, and maybe what you don't get, is how much it destroys me. A lump arises in my throat everytime your phone lights up, as if to say that someone, somewhere, will make you happier than I do. Is this your fault. No. It kills me none the less. Everytime my insecurity gets the better of me and I have to ask who it is. I don't know anymore. I tell you, and myself that I'll make you the happiest girl in the world. But what if I can't? What if you realize that? What if you realize they can do a better job that I can? What if? My life seems to filled with regrets and what ifs. Time and time again, I have proven that I am not enough for anyone. I've told you my that it's my darkest fear. You tell me I am, but what if you're lieing to yourself. What if I was right all along? I pray I'm not. There would be no better time, to be proven wrong. Maybe that's why I'll do anything to make you happy. Whether it be take you tanning, bringing you coffee after work, cleaning your car, driving your friends around. I wouldn't call myself a jealous person. I just realize, I'm not everything you think I am. And that scares me. I don't have a problem with these people. What I have a problem with, is them being along for the ride. The ride in which, they'll be there to pick up the pieces, when you realize that I am not good enough. And instead of me, I'm afraid you'll find them.
I like to speak in references and lyrics. Not because I can't think for myself. But because someone better, said it better than I ever could. Maybe it's also because it allows me to be exposed, while still protecting myself. If someone calls me out on it, I can claim its just a song, just a poem, just a sentence. I don't ever have to say that this person, spoke exactly how I feel. I don't have to be that open. And yet all along, that's all I crave. I want to be able to show you me. I want it to be ok. I want you to hug me as tight as you can. Tell me you love me, and that you're not going anywhere. And yet that still hasn't come when needed. I need to believe it. I need to be forced to believe it. I need to look you in the eyes when you say it, no matter how hard I fight it.
How much does love give? How much does it sacrifice? Everything you like, and love, I am willing to do. I've compromised myself in ways I would have never thought imaginable. I've risked everything and put all my beliefs aside. Is it wrong to ask the same? Is love fair? The minute I ask the same of you, is it no longer love? Is that selfish? To want you, to like the same things I like. Or, just because I'm willing to like anything you like, does not mean it will be reciprocated. Does love bend, until the point it breaks? Or does it continue to bend every which way in order to balance out?
These shots of Malibu chased by Canadian and Dashboard Confessional can't help to hinder my thoughts. Thoughts that I have given hundreds of hours to, and yet now am only coming up blank. Maybe the darkness inside, has silenced my honest self. Watching you read my other posts, only brings tears to my eyes, but I realize now is not the time. I keep myself together, because it's not what we need. I can't dwell on this shit, for thats all this darkness is. Shit. One day I'll beat it. Whether it be with you, through therapy, drugs, booze, or suicide. I won't let it win. I can't. I don't deserve anything, but I deserve more than that.
So this is where it's left. The unknown, once again. I pray you don't read this. I won't bring it up, but I won't hide it from you. Rereading this, all this speaks of is insecurity and lack of self worth. But that's not who I am. It's just a small part. A part that has the upper hand. So ride with me on this journey. Take my hand, and let's show this mother fucker who's boss. Let that unforgetable laugh, matched with your goofy smile show that my love is more than this. That I can be loved, and that you choose me. Let the silence of the lyrics that scream love reign down and tell everyone that I am what you choose. Lets get tattoos, and lets go to Nordic Spa. Buy me a subscription to beer of the month, while I get you a subscription to your favourite magazine. Let's spend our mornings and evenings on a dock or in a canoe, with a rod in one hand, and beer in the other, sitting side by side in deep converations or comfortable silence. Continue being the girl of my dreams. I am working on the being the guy of yours. I just hope one day, you'll take my hand, and show me off to the world, to your world, as the best thing that's ever happened to you. Whether it be tomorrow, the next, our wedding, our first child, our first grandchild, or death. I hope you're proud of me. And proud to be with me. Respect is everything, but no one has ever been proud of me before...
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