as I announce to thousands of people how completely, irrevocably, undeniably, unconditionally in love I am, with you. I’m 19. You’re 21. At this age, it is almost an unspoken and predetermined fact that we are bound to break up. I’m not pessimistic, I’m realistic. Yet, I am a hopeless romantic. I’ve dreamed of being one of those 1-in-a-million girls to find her true love at a young age and make it last until wrinkles are all you see. But through events, necessary-kind-of-pain, I have grown out of that fairy-tale concept and into my own: that I am just not meant to be in love. In a matter of months, you changed my perception, opinion and life. You’ve shaped me in ways I never thought I could be, again. You’ve shown me love and though greatful and relieved to know that I can love again— I am scared out of my fucking mind. You think we were made for each other, I respond, trying to sound realistic, “Even if two people were made for eachother, maybe it doesn’t necessarily mean they’ll spend the rest of their lives together.” You said, “I know.”
There are so many things I don’t like about you, and I know we drive each other crazy. Regardless, we were made for each other and as unrealistic as it may be— I want to spend the rest of my life with you.
by anonymous