Spinning on that dizzy edge, I kissed her face and kissed her head

This is about someone feeling like home from the very first moment. This is about the smell of pine trees, a Spoon album, an unusual number of tiki bars, too many hours in airports and humming planes, a lot of tears, and joy so big and unexpected and normal and every day that I don’t know how I thought the previous 28 years were living or anything close to it.

This is about the person whose soul combines with mine to create a whole that is vastly, irrefutably, uncountably greater than the sum of its parts.

This is about finding myself. This is about letting someone else in. This is about letting someone take care of me. This about being wholly myself and knowing I’m still loved.

This about seeing someone’s entire being and loving all of it. This is about finally understanding love is all the time, unconditional, a choice, intentional. This is about faults and miscommunications and a lot feelings and a lot of miles and a lot of risk and a lot of uncertainty. This about knowing I can’t spend one more day without.

This is about falling in love despite, not because.

This is about what it took to fall asleep next to my person every night for the rest of my life.

This is about us.

Just Like Heaven — The Cure


We’ve had a hard couple of days. I’ve been difficult. I don’t think I’ve ever realized before now how much my difficulties impact you. Tonight I heard your voice break for the first time. Saw my constant particularities and unkindness and nit-picking hurt you, made you feel like not enough, made you feel like you’d done wrong.

‘I messed up again,’ you whispered. ‘I don’t know what to do.’

I’m not sure I’ve ever felt worse. I hurt the person I love the most. I gave you a double-standard, and I was a monster about it. How many times have I broken you down to get to this point? Why have you let me? Please, I beg you, don’t ever let me push you this far again.

You are everything to me. It’s so hard to see, under my need for everything to be just so, my demands, my quick emotions and harsh admonitions. But you matter more than anything else. The margin on that is laughable. Nothing else will ever come close.

I can be a very ugly human sometimes. I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you, but slowly, truly, I am becoming better with you. You are so good, kind, gentle, perfect. You make me want and need to be better.

Tonight I read you the entry that precedes this one. I didn’t know how else to make clear how much I love you. I love you that much at my most broken, mean, selfish. You needed to know.

I started this journal for you, but I’m starting to see how much I need it too.

Oh so the words have all been said, the feeling’s old but it’s new to me

A dozen times a day, I smile a little smile and think about how much I love you. And then my heart skips, and my throat catches, and my eyes are full of tears.

It’s so much. It’s so good it hurts me. When you aren’t near, I lack. When I am in your arms, nothing else matters. I’d give my whole life for those minutes, half hours, long nights we spend talking quietly in the dark. Those seconds with our faces close together, our legs tangled under your quilt, are my whole universe.

Every moment with you plays over and over in my mind, forever. Someday there won’t be room in my head for anything else. The moment you took my hand the first time in the backseat of a rental car. Sharing whiskey out of a travel mug on the beach. Smiling awkwardly across the table at you during a lull in conversation while we shared Thai food. Our first kiss, when I knew. You knew. Your gentle hands rubbing my feet and palms while my body churned under the ache of being a woman. You slipping downstairs in the dark at midnight with a blanket to fix things when I was sad and mad and hurting and tired. You fix everything. Even when I don’t understand why I’m upset, you’re there, patiently, dripping with more love than I could ever deserve, again and again and again.

I didn’t think love like this existed. I didn’t understand it could. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe, or lack of trying to find it in my own life. I just didn’t know.

I’m more afraid of losing you than of anything else in my whole life. I want you so close to me we melt into the same being. I don’t want to be able to tell where you end and I begin and sometimes, for just a breath, just a second, I can’t. I want to give you everything I have, everything I am, everything I will ever be. I want you, I need you, I love you.

There aren’t enough words. A whole library couldn’t hold it. No amount of commas and Times New Roman and clanging typewriter keys could put a candle to it.

I cannot fathom how there was ever a before, a next, a later. How my heart could beat and my vessels could constrict and my tongue could lick dry lips and my eyelashes could quiver under tears. Sometimes I wonder if my cells rebuilt to a new being when you entered my life. Surely the person I was isn’t the person I am with you. You brought new life to me.

I just love you. Good God, do I love you.

I Just Do — Dear and the Headlights

Now I gotta wait for you, honey

I haven’t written much here in awhile. When you read through, please forgive me. Don’t think the months that stretched to these gaps were meaningless, unimportant. Every day with you is life-changing.

We’ve been wrestling through my worries and fears, your steadfastness anchoring us firmly at my most volatile and exhausting and afraid.

We’ve had weekends together, blurs of time where I start to understand what our future might be. Where I see what will be easy and what will be hard (getting out of bed at a reasonable hour, staying consistent with exercise, taking the time for our separate activities when we want to spend every moment together).

We’ve had long phone calls. We’ve had days where we didn’t talk. You’ve driven ten miles out of your way to find wifi to text that you’re safe and you love me. I’ve [drunkenly] cried in your lap for how much I’ll miss you when you’re gone. We’ve cooked and baked and watched shows that make my heart feel whole.

We’ve forgiven each other, often. Always.

I didn’t stop writing because it stopped being beautiful or meaningful or the swelling of my whole universe. There’s just been a lot. I’ve been excited, so afraid, exhausted. It’s been too much for one girl to put into words. Today, in the conversation that constitutes my most recent entry, I understood maybe I haven’t been able to put the words together lately because this isn’t a one-sided story. This isn’t a place for a single narrator.

We are writing this story together. ​

Die Young — Sylvan Esso

Sometimes I worry that if I constantly tell you how much I miss and need you it will be a huge turn off for you. But. I pretty much want to tell you that constantly. Every time we go 15 minutes without talking.

Most of the time I feel needy and like I care way too much, or confused about why you’re doing this, because it doesn’t really seem like you miss or need me. You tell me the first sometimes, but more often it seems like it’s because I’m upset or I’ve said I miss you.
That’s why I asked if something was different this time. The last week is the first time I’ve realized this isn’t just easy and fine for you.
You just seem…okay most of the time. Like the in-betweens are fine, because eventually we’ll see each other again.
And…I don’t feel like I can actually do anything you need. You’re self-sufficient. Which is not a bad thing. But I realize more all the time that I’m wired to take care of people. And when I don’t feel like I can do anything in that realm, I’m sort of at a loss.

I am learning that about you more and more. Which is why I am trying so hard to help you know all of the ways you already take care of me.
This time is harder.
I have a lot of thoughts on it, but they are kind of jumbled.
I have known, without a doubt, that you were the one for me since about a second before the first time we kissed.
I have loved every second we have spent together since then.
I have hurt every second we have been apart.
But I have tried, and until recently succeeded, at just being ok with that pain.
The six days we spent in KC this last trip were the happiest, most content I have ever been. By a wide margin.
I have known this day, and this feeling of unacceptable levels of missing you has been coming since the first time I joked with you about moving in with me.
I hoped I could make it til you actually did.
I am not ok.
I am stupid in love with you.
And I probably won’t be ok from here on out any night I don’t fall asleep next to you.
Or any day I don’t get to hold you close and feel your head on my shoulder.

Hey. I love you.

I love you.

I don’t want you to be sad or not okay. If that wasn’t clear.

I know you don’t.
And I hesitated telling you that because I don’t want you to feel like you are causing this.
But. I dunno. I think you needed to know.

I did.
You are my person.

You are my person.

You’re the only one worth seeing, the only place worth being. The only bed worth sleeping’s the one right next to you.

I’m breaking.

Always something. Some way I want you to talk to me differently, some minute worry, some concern so far away I can feel your bewilderment.

On and on. Until it’s a steady stream we’re drowning in. Until the things that matter have stopped carrying weight, have stopped catching your attention. Because in my world, every worry matters, every worry feels painfully real, every worry takes over my being until nothing else matters.

I’ve lost 12 pounds since last September. I’ve been sick several times. My digestive system has completely altered. I spent a month with insurmountable insomnia. I’m not blaming those things on this relationship. But I think they’re related.

I am not well when I am close to someone. My anxieties and worries spin out into an all-encompassing shit show. I need so much reassurance.

I need to know, every day, that you love me. That not being in the same place has some kind of impact on you at all. That I matter because I’m me, not just because I am an interested woman. That this is hard for you too. That sometimes you feel so far away this seems unreal.

Every day.

Cold Cold Man — Saint Motel

The more I dream about a future together, the farther away and more impossible it seems.

I want a garden. A creative room to call my own. Potted trees in corners and vining plants creeping across curtain rods from baskets suspended in macrame hangers. A kitchen island. Sitting on a stool with a beer while you curse at a motorcycle, your hands greasy with oil. Dinner on the deck at a table for two, strung up bulb lights twinkling above us. Reading at opposite ends of the couch. Waking tangled in your arms and legs and sheets every morning. Ocean walks and redwood hikes and motorcycle rides at impossible speeds. One whiskey too many and tethered to earth by your hand because you, you’ll always ground me at the same time you set me free to dream beyond anything I ever thought allowed.

I want big things. I want small things even more.

I want to come home from work, exhausted, to you. I want you slipping in to join the middle part of my shower. I want to wander the grocery store, hand in hand. I just want to be, together. No plans. No words. No need. Just together.

May I never forget how tired I am of words right now. May I never take for granted a single moment with you. Six months apart is more than enough for us.

Tonight you said, ‘I love you. Forever.’

I want all of life with you. I’m sure.