Multicolored – the “we” of life

It’s easy to ruin a good thing, so I chose not to. The night before last was epic in its joy; I feel like I have a place, and like a tree, I’ve made roots for myself that are difficult to pull up. This does not scare me as it normally would. I rejoice instead. How wonderful is it that I can find love so simply and easily and not tarnish it? As always, I would not call us conventional, but we are as perfect as can be expected of us. We conquer our own worlds in own fell swoop.
It is interesting to me that something special can take place with harsh lights glaring in my eyes and protests spilling from my lips. I don’t need candles or special words or perfection; this is wonderful to me. I just need to let go on a whim, knowing I will be caught, safe and sound. He never murmurs words that hurt me, he never lies to my face, he is never indecisive about what I am to him. I am not everything, but I don’t want to be, and it is enough. It’s spectacular, really.
For so long, I’ve holed myself up behind these walls, ever since the two of us parted ways in our sophomore year. I wanted to be something bigger than his possession, an extension of himself. I looked around and there was only my own self-destruction to embrace. Those are years of my life that I’ll never get back, but they were enlightening. Though I was worse for the wear because of them. Nothing could touch my heart; only my soul, only my body. As a consolation prize. I hate consolation prizes.
Feeling used is wonderful because it is humbling, it is a lesson. But it is not living. I went so long without sucking in the air necessary to grow. Though other men were sympathetic, their way of teaching was harsh, cold. I didn’t have room to grow, not once. Not even one filthy time. I was forever being forced down. Every decision I made was "stupid" or "selfish". For awhile, all I was marked by was stupidity, selfishness…and beauty. My only worth seemed to be in the curves I carry. Empty words that were murmured to me in the heat of the moment. Words that made me feel ugly, made my skin positively crawl.
But this…this is different. This is shared, mutual. I put down my roots and I am growing little vines that will someday bloom into flowers. Because finally there is a sun shining down on my head, and it’s all I need. I never needed the negativity, I never needed the harsh hand to prod me along in a direction that felt so lifeless and empty. I needed the sun. I needed him.
Almost seven months later, I still feel giddy and wonderful and full of oxygen. I never once considered getting out, running away. We are on our path to a great commitment, and if my fear exists, it is only minimally. For once, something matters. I matter, he matters…our life matters. For once, it’s not a futile exercise in endurance, in suffering. I am grateful, though not as often as I should be.
This is easy for me, even though it has its challenges. It’s easy to giggle, to fight, to love. It is still difficult for me to color our world with my true devotion, an outward expression of my love. But it is getting easier, feeling as secure and loved as I do. Our love is shared, it is equal. There is no stilted conversation. I am content, I am a whirlwind of color that is sure to touch upon something bigger than myself.
In all, I am proud to say I am happy, I am making progress….and most of all, I am putting down roots. I am letting go of my fear to achieve something greater. These moments that we share will always paint my memories in vibrant colors, good enough to be tucked away for a cold, lonely night.
The best part is that I am a better version of myself, when I am with him.
We will achieve, we will grow….and we will keep moving on, sliding through the chapters without a backward glance.

Love,
Amanda

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