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The first time a boy told me he loved me I crawled out of his bed to go home and cry myself to sleep that night because it hurt too much to hear when I knew that he’d never love me freely. He loved me there, in his room, in those moments, in a space where only we existed; I knew he’d never really love me fully. I don’t talk to that boy anymore. I learned that maintaining the love I have for myself is more important than the love he was offering me. I’m with someone now that lets me know how much he wants me in every part of his life and loving so freely is more painless than I thought love could be. Things get better.

personal

Apr 10, 2018

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