I think I was born to love you. I think that the moment my eyes opened on this sometimes shitty sometimes wonderful world, they were yours. Not in the sticky sweet and eventually toxic way some others have claimed to be mine, or me theirs. But in the way that the grass belongs to the dirt and the trees to their roots.
I didn’t always know how to say this. I didn’t always have the best teachers. Sometimes we never learn and sometimes we have the knowledge stolen from us. We may be born knowing how to love, but we aren’t always able to keep up the practice.
It’s okay to put your heart in a box if that’s the only way to keep it safe, just never forget that’s not the packaging it came in.
You and I were born to love each other. You and I have seen some shit, I’m not going to pretend we haven’t. But this is instinct. It’s harder to fight it than it is to give in. That’s why we keep getting hurt, because we keep trying to do this and we keep forgetting how.
Will I ever get back to the place where love is effortless? Probably not. But every time I fuck this up, I have one less way to do it. And every time I try again, I love you more.