Growing up I thought being in love was red roses, dates on Saturday nights, pretty jewelry, Friday night movie premiers, kisses in the rain, and boxes that held expensive things. I thought true love was a story with a picture perfect ending. Now that I’m older I’ve realized it’s not that at all. True love isn’t something you find in a Disney movie. Being in love is screaming at 5 AM till you cry out of anger, but knowing they won’t leave. It’s saving each other’s selfies, good or bad, just to look at them because you miss each other. It’s being comfortable enough to talk about anything. It’s saying all the wrong things at the wrong moments. It’s leaving someone in complete control of your heart, but trusting them not to break you. It’s screaming the lyrics to your favorite songs together. It’s honesty even when it hurts and sarcasm when they’re sad. It’s lame jokes and sleepless nights. It’s fights and make up sex. It’s hour long showers and breakfast in the morning. It’s all night phone calls instead of texting. It’s the small things. It’s coffee shop dates and finding new books to read. It’s holding hands and kissing ever so passionately. It’s being able to sit at home just basking in the presence of someone you love with every fiber of your being. It’s wanting to share every moment with that one person. It’s finding yourself awake at 3 AM craving them asleep next to you. It’s little nick names and making fun of each other. It’s being called things like ‘little shit’ or ‘baby’ or ‘love of my life.’ It’s being able to fall asleep knowing that person will still be there in the morning. It’s being apart and knowing nothing will change. It’s deep talks at 6 AM. It’s days full of laughter and tears. It’s capturing the world’s beauty though their eyes. It’s not about the sex or the gifts, it’s about finding someone who pours their love into your deepest cracks making you whole once again. It’s feeling part of you missing when you’re apart. It’s finally being able to love yourself even half as much as that person loves you. Love is the only thing left in the world worth fighting for. Don’t you dare settle for a boy who makes you feel good for a night, or a girl who boosts your ego at a party. Mindfucking love is the holy grail of all love. Being in love will fuck you up in more ways than you can imagine and it’s absolutely fucking heart-wrenching, but at the same time it’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
You are 12. You’re at the library looking for some generic young adult fiction novel about a girl who falls for her best friend. Your dad makes a disgusted face. “This is about lesbians,” he says. The word falls out of his mouth as though it pains him. You check out a different book and cry when you get home, but you aren’t sure why. You learn that this is not a story about you, and if it is, you are disgusting.
You are 15. Your relatives are fawning over your cousin’s new boyfriend. “When will you have a boyfriend?” they ask. You shrug. “Maybe she’s one of those lesbians,” your grandpa says. You don’t say anything. You learn that to find love and acceptance from your family, you need a boyfriend who thinks you are worthy of love and acceptance.
You are 18. Your first boyfriend demands to know why you never want to have sex with him. He tells you that sex is normal and healthy. You learn that something is wrong with you.
You are 13. You’re at a pool party with a relative’s friend’s daughter. “There’s this lesbian in my gym class. It’s so gross,” she says. “Ugh, that’s disgusting,” another girl adds. They ask you, “do you have any lesbians at your school?” You tell them no and they say you are lucky. You learn to stay away from people.
You are 20. You have coffee with a girl and you can’t stop thinking about her for days afterwards. You learn the difference between a new friendship and new feelings for a person.
You are 13. Your mom is watching a movie. You see two girls kiss on screen. You feel butterflies and this sense that you identify with the girls on the screen. Your mom gets up and covers the screen. You learn that if you are like those girls, no one wants to see it.
You are 20. You and your friends are drunk and your ex-boyfriend dares you to make out with your friend. You both agree. You touch her face. It feels soft and warm. Her lips are small and her hands feel soft on your back. You learn the difference between being attracted to someone and recognizing that someone you care about is attractive.
You are 16. You find lesbian porn online. Their eyes look dead and their bodies are positioned in a way that you had never imagined. You learn that liking girls is acceptable if straight men can decide the terms.
You are 20. You are lying next to a beautiful girl and talking about everything. You tell her things that you don’t usually tell anyone. You learn how it feels not to want to go to sleep because you don’t want to miss out on any time with someone.
You are 15. Your parents are talking about a celebrity. Your dad has a grin on his face and says, “her girlfriend says that she’s having the best sex of her life with her!” You learn that being a lesbian is about the kind of sex you have and not how you love.
You are 18. You are in intro to women’s and gender studies. “Not all feminists are lesbians- I love my husband! Most of the feminists on our leadership team are straight! It’s just a stereotype,” the professor exclaims. You learn that lesbianism is something to separate yourself from.
You are 21 and you are kissing a beautiful girl and she’s your girlfriend and you understand why people write songs and make movies and stupid facebook statuses about this and time around you just seems to stop and you could spend forever like this and you learn that there is nothing wrong with you and you are falling in love.
You are 21. And you are okay.
She was like one of those dreams, that no matter what you do, you can never stay asleep long enough to dream it to the end.
Do you remember the first time you saw her? Does it really matter where she was, or what she was doing? What time of the year it was, or even what year? Whenever, or wherever it was that you first saw her sitting alone and you spoke to her, was the last time any of that ever mattered. Since then, every day is that day, every place is that place, and every girl is her.
My heart is an unmade bed;
it might look messy, but I swear
it’s a safe place to rest.
You deserve to be with somebody who will drive three hours, just to see you for one.
Don’t do that. Don’t skip stages in your life. You’re 19, kiss a few boys and wear your heart on your sleeve. There will come a time when you’re 39 and stuck in a suit, wondering why the hell you were so eager to grow up in the first place.
You’ll regret not kissing her a lot more than you’ll regret kissing her.
Never again. (via bridgetoteranarnia)
OMG the accuracy
You wrecked me and
I’ve often lost myself, in order to find the burn that keeps everything awake.