I should have loved myself more.
When it comes to you I still have trouble thinking clearly. Even after nearly 2 months of silence you’re still there in the forefront of my mind. Messages started and deleted. Posts made and drafted. Because the few times I lost myself and sent you my thoughts, I was left alone again. But I’ll probably keep making that same mistake.
That’s not to say that I don’t want to love and be loved; just to say that it’s no longer a question of “You complete me.” What I need now, which is so different to what I needed ten, five, or even three years ago, is not filling, but a use for my fullness. I want someone that will push against the wall inside me where I’ve spent all my time repairing the spidery cracks spreading across the surface. And when the destructive veins behind to reemerge, I want someone who will stand beneath me, holding the ladder I’m climbing to reach the blemishes, handing me the tools I need to smooth out the puckering in the paint as I go.
I don’t want anyone to complete me anymore, regardless of whether I feel complete or not. All I want is to be a girl standing in front of a boy, eyes full of tears, professing my love, and with ultimate resolve say, “You extend me.”
So even if years later we aren’t kissing each other,
Girls will still taste the love we had.