The way our hands fit perfectly together as our fingers intertwine, is proof that your hand was meant for mine to hold.
Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
I don’t know enough about anything to preach to anyone. I don’t have enough life experience to make assumptions about love, what it means, and what it does to us; however, through a series of painful realizations, it started to make sense in an odd sort of way. Not ‘real’ sense, but the crazy, uninhibited sort of sense that only love can make. I’ve realized that everything we make ourselves do, everything we put ourselves through, there aren’t any reasons for it. The things we say, the places we go on dates, the public display of affection, the holding of hands, the little text messages — we only do these things because that’s all we know of love. It’s what we see on the media and read about in books. That’s the kind of love that we’ve been taught. But those things are only actions. Actions might speak louder than words, but feelings mean more than actions. It’s like a twisted game of rock-paper-scissors.
I know that these things often do accompany real love. Because if you’re in love, you WANT to hold his hands; you WANT to leave a little note in his jacket pocket for his mom to find in the wash a week later, give it to him and know he’s thinking of you; you WANT to smell him; you WANT him to hold you and tell you that you’re perfect just the way you are; you WANT him to kiss him and make him feel good; you WANT to listen to the music he listens to, just in hopes that it will help you understand him better; you WANT to help his mom clean up in the kitchen and talk sports with his dad; you WANT to know everything. You WANT to know everything. You want to put his needs ahead of yours, and you want to do it all so that he KNOWS you love him, but doing it when you’re legitimately in love isn’t playing by the rules. Because in love, there are no rules. No one tells you that you’re doing it wrong, not even yourself. To worry and nit-pick over the small things is to look back and love means not looking back. Love means holding him, and being afraid. Afraid because you could lose him at any moment, but that fear is what keeps you holding on. In love, anything goes and that’s okay. That’s what is so beautiful about it. You don’t know what what happens next. As you have is the fact that both of you will be going through it together.
We could learn a lot from crayons: some are sharp, some are pretty,
some are dull, some have weird names. All are different colors, but
they all have to learn to live in the same box.
We’re to the point of no return
And along the way, the only thing
we’ve learned is how to hurt each other.