Putting Fear to Bed

 

 

I had to think about this.

And when the answer struck me I laughed hard enough to scare the cat.

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My girl once said to me “Sarah, if you ran into him in a grocery store you would have him on his knees.”

I don’t want him on his knees, unless his face is pressed into my belly and he is breathing me in while my fingers run through his hair and he slowly slides my panties down…

Been working on the book again.

Sorry not sorry.

Plan C is to finish the thing and send it to him. At least we will be alive and in love somewhere page by [living] page.

And he will know.

Pseudonym so no one else will.

Everyone was welcome in my brain. I had this website. I did things, wrote about them and tried to learn. I left myself clues, this was a time capsule and a history lesson all rolled into one.

I was trying to build a house on memory lane. But the postman only brought old love letters. The paper only brought old news and the radio played the soundtrack to my past, I never got to hear anything new.

Comfortable? Yes.

Happy? No.

The porridge is cold, the chair is hard and the bed is too small.

This isn’t my house. My home is with him.

I am not the girl I was before. I’m not the girl he met. I’m better. He showed me a better way.

I touched on this a few articles back.

Up until 3 years ago I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. It is only through spilling things here, rehashing and learning that I have finally come to some comfort and knowing with myself.

2 years ago when he met me I was still an idiot.

I wasn’t incapable of listening but that voice of low self-esteem was so fucking loud both literally and figuratively, everything else was drowned out.

“He can’t possibly want me, I am nothing, I am not shiny.”

Had I just listened, he tried shiny and he didn’t like it.

He said the words “I fell for you a long time ago.”

Like that old cereal commercial, Mikey likes it and he doesn’t like anything.

I am something all right. In his words I am everything he ever wanted and everything he has ever run from.

I figured something out. Those things he ran from are the things I left behind. On my own.

Once upon a time I wanted attention and any attention would do.

And having gorged on both good, bad, real and bullshit attention, I am good without any of it.

Nothing felt better than the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line while he listened to me speak. Except the sound of his voice when he would respond and he told me his wishes and wants.

I am finally becoming that clever girl.

You are the love of the best part of my life.