Some people appear to be happy-go-lucky on the outside, but they struggle desperately behind closed doors and never give the matter much thought as to why. They distract themselves with TV, or social media, or whatever it takes to drown out the pain and the truth about their unhappiness.
I’ve come to a point in my life where “I love you” just doesn’t have the same meaning as it used to before. Sure, you can love me. You can fall in love with my eyes, with the way I tuck my hair behind my ears, with the way the sunshine hits the color of my skin. You can love me in a hundred and one different ways but it wouldn’t mean anything if you don’t choose me. So yes, you could tell me you love me and my heart will skip a beat and I’ll have butterflies in my tummy and I will feel the earth shake on my feet - I will feel so happy, my heart could burst out of my chest… but it simply just won’t be enough anymore.
So this is what I need from you:
Tell me you choose me. When I’m slumped on the floor ridden with guilt and grief from everything that has ever and will ever hurt me - hold me and tell me you choose me. When I’m pushing you away, when my fists are up and the ugliest of things come out from this mouth you proclaim to love - say you choose me anyway. When I’m broken, when you can’t fix me, when no amount of I love you’s in the world can assuage my pain - please, hold my face, shake me a little, say, “look at me, I choose you, okay?”
You can tell me you love me. You can shout it to the world. You can say it to me a million times and it will be what I want to hear. But telling me, “I choose you” - darling, that’s all I will ever need.