When I first saw you, I felt a pull towards you. There was something about you I had to get to know. There was something in you that beckoned for my presence in your life. There was a part of you that needed a part of me, or the other way around because you never know about these things. But there was definitely a part of you calling out to a part of me. And that is exactly what scared the life out of me.
I know you have only known of my name for a few days. I know we have only talked, small talk, a maximum of ten times. I know you are as clueless about me as I am about you. So let me explain myself:
The last person I felt a pull towards, a connection with, that spark towards, is someone who I cannot imagine anymore. He brought me to some sort of light that I’ve been needing in my life for several years. He brought me to a place within myself where I can heal. He adored me; he respected me; he supported me; he encouraged me; he believed in me; he rooted for me; he tried to understand me; he did his best to be there for me; he showered me with affection; and, most importantly, he loved me and he wanted me to be happy and accept myself.
Right from the start, we both knew we had something different. We had a friendship unlike any other either of us have experienced. We had a strong connection that seemed to know no bounds. We had something different that could only be felt by the two who were in the relationship. We lived what seemed to be a fairytale life, a “happy ever after” kind of story where the bride and broom fight by each other’s sides an unlimited amount of times.
But, and I’m sure you can guess where this is going, our world snapped in two and everything that seemed to be a fairytale shattered like an illusion or a spell that was only waiting to get broken.
That was the last time I let someone get that close. That was the last time I trusted anyone to let them see anywhere even remotely close to 80% of the true me. That was the last time I counted on someone to stick by me. That was the last time I was rooting for someone for the sake of keeping them in my life. That was the last time I can say I let myself called someone “mine”.
And what do you expect? A girl with a broken heart and a hectic life spins around to continue to keep pushing forward and keep fighting for something a little more.
So, when I saw you for the first time and felt that pull towards you, it scared the life out of me. My guard went up. My shields went on. But I couldn’t turn it off. When I turned around and you were there, there was no denying my curiosity.
I didn’t stop myself from trying to start small conversations, as coworkers should, during the times that you stood by my side. I didn’t stop myself from smiling and shaking my head when I felt comfortable being there with you. I didn’t stop myself from asking for your help when I needed help with the heavy weight. I didn’t stop myself from asking the question I knew sat on the tip of your tongue, “Did you want to hang out?” I didn’t stop myself from shrugging off the alarms that went off in my head when you tried getting closer. I didn’t stop myself from smiling in both amusement and sympathy when you tried to shower me with a form of affection you knew how to give. I didn’t stop myself…but, now, I wish I had.
Because the only things that run through my mind when I think about that time when I talked to you are the questions like: DO I act like a spoiled bitch? DO I act like I don’t have any clue how hard life might be for others? DO I act like there are people who “aren’t cool enough” or “aren’t good enough” to be my friend? DO I set myself apart from everyone so much that people see a boundary between my world and theirs? DO I not understand struggle because I did not struggle the way everyone else might’ve been dealing with?
I know I had an easier life than most. I know I don’t know what it is like to struggle the way others have. I know I have yet to take on the responsibilities that others my age might’ve started to deal with by age 15. I know I was protected like a princess trapped in her room that overlooks the city in some tower. I know my life must seem to be where everyone would want to be. I know people look in from the outside and believe I must have it so much better because I have the facade that tells them I’m better than they must be. I know…that much.
What I do not know is this: I don’t know how much about me you think you know. I don’t know how much about my life you think you can read off my clothes or the car I drive. I don’t know what you think about this seemingly rich girl working a part-time job where she gets paid minimum wage when she could be doing other things.
I don’t know what you’ve had to deal with and life with when you were growing up. I don’t know what you’re going through now on a day-to-day basis. I don’t know how confused you might be about the future. I don’t know what your checkered past might consist of. I don’t know what you think of the person you see each day in the mirror.
I also don’t know where I’m going to be in a year. I also don’t know why we have this seemingly unnatural pull towards one another. I also don’t know why a part of you is calling to a part of me. I also don’t know what we are supposed to be in each other’s lives. I also don’t know what we are supposed to do for one another.
I don’t know why we have been placed in the circumstance we see ourselves in. I don’t know why we seem to understand a little bit about each other that feels as if others don’t get. I don’t know…a lot of things, to be simple, maybe I should’ve just said that at the start. But what I do know is that maybe I am willing to give you a chance as long as you give me a chance too.
I don’t know what I can do for you. I don’t know what kinds of things I can show you or teach you. I don’t know what I can prove to you or lead you towards. I don’t know. I also don’t know what you can entertain me with. I don’t know what you can show me or prove to me. I don’t know what you can do for me.
But I might be willing to give this a shot, as long as you give it your all.
Just give me some time. Because, just as you had said you’re scared of getting hurt, I am terrified of letting my guard down and turn my shields off once more.