Complaints of a Girl in Love

…and all the joys that come once I realize what love really is

Month: March, 2014

If I could think of a title for this it would be cheesy. Like most are.

I would complain. Sure, I’d do that. If I had anything to complain about. But at the moment, I have not a single thing to complain about. The boy I love is in love with me. Madly so. And that makes me very happy.

Of course, it’s hard to have to wait to be with him. So I guess I could complain about that. But it’s not too long to wait for something this wonderful. I don’t get to see him much. A couple times a week at most. I could complain about that I suppose. But it’s enough. It’s more then I ever got to see any of the other guys I loved. Or thought I loved.

Yeah, i’m pretty content. Pretty happy. Pretty in love. And I really like it that way. I like having someone who will grab my hand to keep it from shaking. I like having someone who loves every word I say, every breath I take. Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should run him off and tell him that I hate his flattery. 

I’d be a liar if I did.

Not today.

I haven’t been able to write lately. I’ve wanted to. I have so badly wanted to just sit down and write and write and write. And I can’t seem to do that lately. Which kills me. I don’t even feel like talking about this new love.

And I know I said I was going to tell you everything. But I don’t want to. 

Not today anyways.

Starting over.

We’re in love. We both agree on that much, if on nothing else. And you know what, we also agree that we are worth fighting for. This love is worth the fight. It’s worth waiting for. 

I love him desperately. I really do.

We have our issues. Okay, we have our *issue* (singular). But we’re working on it okay? And despite what he thinks, I’m far from perfect. Though the more he tells me I’m perfect, the closer I come to believing it. Maybe I want to believe it. Maybe when I’m with him, I am perfect. Because we are perfect together. 

I know that no one’s perfect. I know that. But love tells me differently. 

I’m going to restart this whole blog starting today. From today on this is the story of our journey from best friends to something more. But guys, I’m gonna do this right. I’m gonna do this God’s way. No more lies, no more secrets, no more refusing to care about the truth that is right in front of me.

And it won’t be easy. But I’m going to do my best. And I hope you have fun reading my deepest thoughts and pains and complaints and all of the joy that comes from two teenagers who think they are in love. 

So here goes. We’re starting over. Come on. Dive in. You know you want to. And who knows? You might just find out what love really is. And who knows where that could go!

 

A lot

“I’m pretty sure he loves you a lot.” Justin said. “Yeah. He does.”

I know I keep doing this, keep “realizing” that he loves me, but every time I think I understand…I don’t. Love doesn’t make any sense. But it is wonderful all the same.

The best feeling.

You wanna know? You really wanna know the best feeling huh? Okay.

The best feeling was last night when he put his arm around my shoulders and I leaned into him, rested my head on his, and he put his hand on my shoulder and I just died. We stayed like that for all of three seconds and we shouldn’t have even done that I know, but I was so tired, so sick, so alone. I was so done and then he reminded me why I’m not done. 

I’m not done because there are still people like him who are dying.

I can’t let it be over.

My only sunshine

He tells me he want’s more notes, so I write him more. They are insane and horrible and once in awhile they are beautiful. But they all make me believe that I’m in love with him. I don’t know if I want to be. But I’m not really sure I can help it.

It’s been raining for days and days. And it’s cold. And I hate that. But he tells me that it doesn’t matter to him, that I am his sunshine. 

Somehow I believe him. Somehow I like it when he says “good morning sunshine.” Somehow I don’t hate him for it. And I cant figure out why.

Image

 

 

“Are we in love?”

He’s in love with me. Honest he is, he practically said it.

“Sometimes I wonder if you aren’t in love”

“How could that ever go through your head?”

“I have no idea.”

See? I told you I could make him love me. Now he does. And so you know what that means? That means that if I am in love with him then WE are IN love! Crazy right?

But am I? Am I in love with him? Who knows… Sometimes I think yes, and other times I wonder what that even means.

This is going to sound so weird, but I was looking at old pictures of him and there was one that I glanced at and honest truthful, he looked just like Dutch. I’m not kidding, I had to look again before I realized that it was Mikey and not really Dutch.

Okay, so I guess I do have a type.

Okay, okay, back to the story. Um…where was I? Oh yeah. Am I in love… with Mikey. Oh come one, you can’t just decide something like that, you can’t just go, “yeah, for sure, I’m in love.” I mean, that’s not how it works right?

Please.

I love him.

I was watching some Jackie Chan movie once and there was a girl and…oh what were they doing? Swimming or something, and they came up out of the water and she just asked him, “are we in love?” I’ve wanted to do that for so long. I just want to ask him that, I want to know. I want to have this, for it to be ours.

Maybe someday.

“I like it.”

We were at a party. All of us. Every one. It was my sister’s party in fact.

It was one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. Lot’s of fun. Everyone I love. And Mikey…Oh my poor dear…

“Brandon is acting extra weird today.” he said. “Yeah,” I said. “I like it.” I walked away toward Brandon without looking back. Poor dear.

Last night he was so nervous, sitting there beside me. It is hard not to laugh sometimes. It is just so adorable, the way he loves me, the way he believes me when I say that there is more to me than meets the eye, the way he would still love me even if all I was is what meets the eye, because he looks at me and tells me I am perfect. And I believe him.

You should detest me. You should call me a G.T. and tell me that I oughtn’t play with the boys feelings, and that I should choose one of them. Go ahead. Say it.

But I won’t listen. You know that. I never do. They cause me to be even more vain, but I’ll try my best not to be. But he tells me I am perfect. And I like it.