lovers
i spent a full day and night with the man i love this weekend.
in the interest of time, i’ll paraphrase: i love him. he loves me. when i moved back, he told me he can’t be in a relationship with me, but has no interest in being with anyone else. this either suits me or rips me to pieces, given the time of day. we hang out sparingly, and sometimes fall into bed with one another. strangers assume we are together which is, again, alternately comforting and heart-shredding.
there are nights where we hang out and i go home and bury my face in my hands and wake up with pain behind my eyes; when i pour my every insecurity into him and us (or, more accurately, the lack of ‘us’), and decide that what he offers me isn’t enough, and that i am a fool to pretend that it is.
and
there are nights where he tells me that he watched a film and the main character reminded him of what i must have been like as a little girl; where he runs out of the house of the party we’re at to floor the guy i’m fist fighting in the front yard; when i get upset in the dark and cry myself to sleep, only to wake up to him still comforting me.
i was afraid this weekend was going to be one of the former, and was pleased and relieved to discover it was the latter.
i know that this will not always be the case.
1 year ago • 0 notes