You want me to write, so I will write. Straight out of a Clint Eastwood movie, I'll write the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. I question where this motivation and desire comes from. I wonder, is this because you don't feel loved? You need to read my words of affirmation, just like I need the touch your touch? I hope not, because if that's the case, everything I've done, every time I've put you first, put your needs above my own, have been in vain. I sincerely hope not, because part of my issue is not feeling appreciated, and wanted, and this would confirm it.
I need you to rely on me. Just the way I rely on you. Part of the reason why I was so offended during the unlocking of your keys. I drove to you in your time of need. Attempting my best to achieve success, driving to Ryan's to pick up keys, driving all over town. All of this seemed to be worthless. As if I was just means to an end. The minute we're back, you take the keys and attempt to unlock yourself. Then you again attempt yourself to unlock the trunk - you're successful. I feel like a failure. No appreciation comes my way, no gratitude for my part. This is your victory, and yours alone. This strikes a deep fear, that I'm not good enough for you and that you don't need me.
Maybe I'm just over analyzing everything. Desperate for answers, I'm continually searching for the root of all of this. Hoping that there's one, that we can shed light and ultimately conquer this once and for all. I want us, to become us again. I want to be wanted. I want desire, lust, love and passion. I want you to want to show me off. You told me a week ago you'd put me back into your facebook profile picture, and as little and stupid as this gesture is, to me, it tells me you don't care who knows who I am. You're proud to show me off. I miss the days that you posted that you had the best boyfriend.
I love you, and I love us. You laugh, and out comes a fart. This makes us both laugh even more. I chuckle at the cuteness of this. Your face starts to go red with embarrassment, but then stops. You give me a look that says "get over it, it's nothing you haven't heard before." In the face of all this conflict, it takes a small bodily function to break the train of thought, and remind me that we're simply both human. Flawed from the start, but fighting to change that. Maybe that's it. Maybe there is no final solution to this bullshit. Maybe life is about dealing with shit, one day at a time, and making memories in the meantime. I love you, and that's never going to change. Whether you're grumpy for no good reason, kissing my neck while I do dishes, or guessing poorly drawn trolls by yours truly. I'm yours that is never going to change. Will you be mine? Will you choose day in, day out to put up with my shitty drawings, insecurities, and rock hard ass? I hope so.
I don't even know if you read this. The last time I wrote, we had sex the next morning. Was that a result of what you read? Or did you actually want me? I've told you before that I've continued to write. Just never publishing. Now that I'm making this available, will these words fall on deaf ears, or I suppose eyes?
You're beautiful. You are. I hope you know that. I'm here for you. Always.
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