to love for the hope of it all

things that are meant to be mine, will. things that are meant to find their way back to me, will. that includes a.b.s.

i think about myself in relation to him so much that i forget that independently from what he thinks of me and whether or not it will be with him, i’m destined for a good life. not destined as in written in ink somewhere, but destined in that i will make sure it happens. i will have a full life with a husband and children who love me, i will find a way to have a career while taking care of them and the other people around me, i will continue to be kind, and loving, and perhaps far too trusting, because i am already that person. i care with every fiber of my being about the things that matter to me. i make sure the people i care about feel it.

i’m intelligent, i’m terribly funny, i’m grounded (most of the time), i have a financial safety net to fall back on if needed, i’m ambitious, i’m caring, i’m loving, i’m kind – i’m lovely. if that is either not enough or too much for a.b.s., i’m not the problem. i’ve probably never been.

if a concept from years ago, or a long-distance relationship with someone else sounds like a better idea to him, i fear he’s just not as smart or logical as he claims or i thought he was. if he doesn’t think i’m worth making the effort of actually finding out how he feels, exploring something new, exploring feelings we both know he has – it’s his loss.

i know i lament over needing to find someone else with whom i connect and that understands me in the way he does, but the truth is that i felt that way with someone else before him, and will after him. there may not be anyone in my life right now that makes me feel the way he does, but there probably will be. i’ve known from the beginning i could find someone with whom this entire ordeal would be easier, simpler – with less emotional baggage and who would provide me with what i need effortlessly. i’ve known from the beginning that this would be an up-hill struggle and i was alright with that, because i’m him. frankly, i still am. that doesn’t go away overnight because i’m hurt.

i would still figure things out with him. i would make the effort. have the conversations, continue to love him while he learns how to love me, support him, figure out a life together. the distinction is that i don’t have to.

it oftens feels very ‘him or nothing’ because i feel i don’t have anyone better in my life. for the moment, i think that remains true, i think i can finally look past the image of him for what he is. unsure of himself and what he wants for his life, happy to not make improvements to better his life or others, unwilling to adapt or change. i won’t kid myself – i am still willing to be his. to figure things out. grow, or even not; make the entire situation easier for him. he won’t let me. he hasn’t up until now. it’s been weeks and months of me trying to break down barriers that are barely willing to be worked on. of trying to understand someone who hates when i do. who gets terrified the second i realise something about him he doesn’t want me to.

i adore him, as a person, as a friend, as a potential lover; but i can’t keep being the only one trying to make it work. i can’t be the only one who misses the other when we don’t talk during the day and want to reach out in the evening. i can’t be the only one who looks forward to the weekend purely to see the other. or to the evenings just for the potential of speaking to the other. i’m happy to do it, always, but i don’t want to be the only one anymore.

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my love if you ever do read this, by some one-off strange occurrence, i still want you to be that person. we both know that you could do better with your life the way it is right now, and that you want to but are too afraid to or don’t know how. let me help. let’s figure it out. i’m asking you to take a chance on me; on us; on what we could be. i can’t promise it’ll be good or easy, but it will be worth it. we make each other happy and enjoy each other’s company. there’s no one else i’d rather do things or talk to than you. no one else i want to figure this out with.

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the times we don’t talk, much like this (although much shorter period) usually brings some form of clarity to the situation for both of us – last time, i concluded i loved you. i’m scared of not reaching that conclusion again. i’m scared of letting go and missing out on us. don’t make me, please.

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