Jason…
I get the feeling that when I vent on here the only result are the bad things I think and feel. It’s hard to say the words when you’re breath is gone and you’re chest is too tight to make a sound. It’s hard to verbalize all the great things he makes me feel because somehow as people we’ve made it far to easy to say the wrong things and far to hard to say the right. So we find ourselves at a loss for the words that can properly convey the sweetness of a stolen glance or the tingle of the slightest brush of his fingers across my back, barely more than a soft breeze that ruffled my shirt. I can’t quite explain that when he’s holding me although I don’t know so much about him, I know he’s home. I know that when my head is on his chest and I can feel him deeply inhaling the scent of my hair that there isn’t another place on this earth I’d rather be at that exact moment. I know that when he calls me in the mornings I can’t get the smile off my face for the rest of the day. I know that when I’m with him I wish I had the words to tell him all of this, but I know that I don’t need the words because somehow he already knows. I know that he’d never criticize me and that he’d always respect my opinion. I know this because I’d do the same for him. I know that secretly he likes to show me off and that he’s proud that I belong to him. I know he likes to protect me from things he ashamed of because he’s too proud to admit that he couldn’t fix them. I know he feels responsible for the world and that he spends all of his time trying to make it a wonderful place. I know his heart is broken from things in his past he hasn’t yet revealed. I know that he’d indulge my interests even if he silently wished he were elsewhere, as would I his. I know that he falls asleep every time we watch a movie because he’s usually worked ten times harder in one day than most people do in a week. And so my friends when I complain and analyze and try my hardest to find all of his imperfections know it is only because of my own insecurities.
