perfectly imperfect
I’m high maintenance. I require a lot of attention and affection. Actions speak louder than words, yes, but I need you to tell me, too. I get away with a lot of shit because I’m cute. I use this to my advantage sometimes. I will lawyer you, meaning I will trap you into saying exactly what I want you to say, or simply ask you a question that has no good answer. Why? I don’t know…habit. If I get overly tired, I get bitchy. Sometimes I’m quiet for no good reason. I don’t always understand my moods. I cry too much. I’m impatient. I want it all…all the things, all of you, everything.
When I think about all of that, I wonder why my boyfriend stays with me. Why he has been with me for 3 ½ years. And the wondering eats at me, and then I doubt things, and then there are problems. Problems I usually cause. This, luckily, doesn’t happen often anymore, but when it does it makes me think. It makes me want to be better.
But then I remember the good things about me: I’m smart, funny, educated. I love to have a good time. I love to laugh. I love to love him. I’d do anything for him. I work hard. I’m successful. I’m kind. I’m a good friend. I’m a good listener. I give sage advice. I have taught him important life lessons about living in the moment and the value of creating memories. I cherish our time together, and I let him know every day how I feel about him. I will always be here to build him up when he needs it, no matter what. We have so much fun together. All the time. Even doing the simplest things.
And so it goes. And it works. And we are happy. And I realize that the reason I worry so much is because I finally have something I’m scared to lose.
