If you are going to fall in love with me, it’s only fair that you know what you are falling in love with.
You are falling in love with my insecurities, and my obsession with trying to figure out what everyone thinks of me. You are falling in love with my immaturity, my constant need to feel loved and appreciated, my overactive tear ducts, my internet obsession, my tendency to be too clingy. You fall in love with my troubled past, and my hopes and dreams, and how I’m a hopeless romantic at heart. If you fall in love with me, you fall in love with my self-hate and all my imperfections and my perception that nobody could ever love me.
But, you are also falling in love with the way my eyes will smile when I’m with you, the way I’ll text you in the mornings just telling you I hope you have a great day. You’re falling in love with the occasionally humorous and/or thought-provoking things I say, and the way I blush when people ask me about you. But to me, the most important thing will be that you are falling in love with me, despite my thinking that it is impossible.
“There are times when life calls out for a change, a transition. Like the seasons. Our spring was wonderful, but summer’s over now, and we missed out on autumn. And now, all of a sudden, it’s cold. It’s so cold, everything is freezing over. Our love fell asleep. And the snow took it by surprise. But if you fall asleep in the snow, you don’t feel death coming.”—Francine, Paris Je T’aime
Things are a little rough right now. Instead of trying to pick myself up and work through my problems, I’ve chosen to just feel sorry for myself. I’m a little lost right now, and I’m not really sure how to go about fixing things. It seems whenever I’m bummed out I overanalyze and find everything else that’s going wrong in my life. Over the course of the past 3 years I have become incredibly emotional, I cry about everything, and I mean everything. It also doesn’t help that I have a tendency of running away from my problems. I never actually stay around long enough to fix things, I kind of just disappear and get as far away as I can… New York, Michigan, etc. and now here I am once again trying to flee. I know it sounds ridiculous, and I know that I won’t always be able to runaway from every problem, but right now it’s what works for me.
“I did not like to be touched, but it was a strange dislike. I did not like to be touched because I craved it too much. I wanted to be held very tight so I would not break. Even now, when people lean down to touch me, or hug me, or put a hand on my shoulder, I hold my breath. I turn my face. I want to cry.”—Wasted, Marya Hornbacher