you see, the thing with the others was that i was always trying to be better for them. trying to be prettier, smarter, funnier. i made an effort to like the same kind of stuff as them, listen to the same kind of music, so that i could appear cool and wonderful in their eyes. so they'd like me. but i didn't like myself.
i'd look in the mirror and instead of seeing a healthy, tall, gorgeous young woman, i'd tell myself that the non-exsistent gap between my thighs, the size of my nose, the pimples on my cheek were the reason why the boy didn't like me. that i was the problem.
but you - you're different.
i don't need to impress you. nor do i want to. you liked me as a person - as me - a long time before any of this started. you liked me because i was me, despite all my imperfections. and i'm not meaning in a romantic way, like you're in love with me or something. i mean that you wanted to spend time with me, hang out with me, get to know me, because i was me.
(it sounds like i'm rambling, i know, but this is making sense in my head i swear)
i don't have to impress you because i already did a long time ago, when we became very good friends. you make me feel like i don't need to be better, because i'm already cool and wonderful, but you make me want to be better. you make me want to be nicer, kinder, softer, because i see those qualities in you, and i see how you encourage people with your quiet confidence and easy smile, and i want that for myself. you're smoothing down my rough edges, darling, and i can't thank you for that enough.
for some reason, i had this idea in my mind that love should be this all-encompassing, devastating thing that causes this one particular person to occupy all the thoughts in your mind, every second of the day. i thought that was love. now i know it's not. it's unhealthy and suffocating and leaves no room for yourself and your own needs.
with you, i can breathe easy. i'm comfortable, but not comfortable enough that my eyes don't light up when you walk into a room, or my heart doesn't stutter when you laugh at something i've said.
you like me because i'm me, and i like you because you're you, and the fact that deadpool is our favourite superhero and that we both agree that mayer and hendrix are gods is just added extra details.
i'm just scared, i guess. of losing you. i've said this so many times but you're my best frickin' friend and to lose you would suck balls so hard. but it would also suck if i didn't take this chance and run with it. i don't want to be stuck in like twelve years with a mediocre life thinking "ah, shit, if only i hadn't made all those lame excuses", because you're the best person i know and i'm never gonna find another you (john mayer reference! so proud) so what's the use in putting this off? even if it only ends in a summer fling, at least i know i tried.
i guess i'd describe it like this: i'm on the edge of a cliff, right? the one round the corner of our local beach (you know the one). and i'm about to jump off into the sea, and it's a beautiful day, and the water looks so good and i know that when i crash into it, it will feel amazing. but i'm scared. in my mind, i'm playing over and over what would happen if i didn't jump out far enough and hit the side of the cliff, or if i slipped and lost my footing and hit my head on the clay. what if there's sharks? what if i drown? but you're there, and you're telling me that it's gonna be okay, and i ask you to prove it. so you jump off the cliff and leap into the water, doing one of those double-backflip things you tried last summer, and you land with a splash and a smile that says "what are you waiting for, dumbass? the water's great!" and so i jump. and it is great, whether i stay in the sea for a hour or a month or a thousand years.
i'm scared. (but i'm also scared of everything - something you're helping me be better at.) but i'm not stupid. so i'm running with this. whether it works out or not.
