When the insecure girl gets in a relationship:
One. I wake up every morning and hope I am not just a convenience.
Two. Some days, I don’t really like myself at all. He knows that. He also knows that this sort of mental damage cannot be undone with the switch of a button, or a couple of sweet words.
Three. He says I am more than what I showed him, and more than what he wished to see. I know I get riled up over my feelings and I know it could get too suffocating but he kisses me like I’m his oxygen and he’s dying to breathe.
Four. Sometimes I miss being single. I miss not worrying about sharing my melancholy with anyone else.
Five. I never really liked the way my glasses looked on me, even when he told me that I looked really good in them, much to my surprise.
Six. He pleads me to let him familiarise with the sound of my heart beating, thumping, fighting to survive. He would let his breath match up with the beats of my heart and even though he’s not good with words at all, he would crack a joke from time to time and try to cheer me up. The most recent one being “It is not okay if Donald Trump loves himself and you don’t.”
Seven. I screamed at him when he insisted to share his M&Ms with me even though I had already said no multiple times. I thought I blew it off and he’d never want to see me again, but he was there to prove otherwise.
Eight. “I can be your home, temporarily.” He said to me one day and I could feel the last word shattering my heart into tiny little fragments, thinking he meant temporarily as in “Until I notice that Europe shaped scar on your collarbones”
“Until I notice those energy bars you hide under your bed for night time when you feel you have fainted enough times today”
“Until I notice all the reasons I should leave you.”
“Until I notice you.”
Nine. Never have I thought about the beauty the word temporarily could hold. Never have I thought that his ‘temporarily’ meant “Until I no longer have to seek home in another human being.”. Never I thought that his ‘temporarily’ meant why can’t I find home within myself? Isn’t it the only permanence I have?
Ten. The day he found me sitting alone in an empty classroom during lunch break, fingers tangled in my hair and my eyes red as volcanoes, he took a seat right next to me without speaking a single word, leaned his head on my shoulder, closed his eyes, and plugged his earphones into his IPod to block out my barely audible whispers, begging him to leave. He knew I didn’t want him to leave.
Eleven. Later on, when the bell rang and he had to leave for chemistry, he said that he loved me and paused for some seconds before smiling at me sadly and walking away. I cannot help but think of all the beats my heart skipped at that little pause. All the times I braced myself for an ‘I love you, but” and never thought maybe he was just bracing himself for an “I love you too.”
Twelve. Sometimes I think maybe all of this is just a terrible mistake.
Thirteen. He tells me his favourite picture of me was a mistake.
Fourteen. It’s not even a matter of jealousy. Because I would never want control over him, I want control over my thoughts.
Fifteen. Some nights we’re so happy. We would dance to The Thrills in the attic of his house, stumbling on every piece of furniture his mum abandoned, and laughing our hearts out at those who gave us looks as we walked in the school’s hallway. Those nights he leaves no space for the voices in my head for he becomes the marvellous symphony I’d gladly get lost into all the time if I could. Those nights I don’t question the validity of my feelings or if his ex noticed when he passed me the first “I like you.” note in math class when we were fourteen.
Sixteen. He never rushed me to heal. Whenever he feels like he’s not saying or doing enough, he would tell me he likes to watch me try and settle in my own body and mind with a sense of serenity and that no matter how shitty he is with words, he would do anything to pave the road for me. But I sometimes forget he is not living to hurt me, but to love and help me. I guess I am just learning what it is to be loved back.
Seventeen. He still says he loves me, even when the lights are on.