I Think I Saw It Coming

When you started walking towards me. I mean, you didn’t run. You smiled, hefty messenger bag slung over your shoulder, but you didn’t run. Love was absent from your eyes, I just didn’t see it yet. Somewhere deep inside my brain, my inner workings were putting together a warning signal. They were writing out the memo as I turned away from you and watched your too slow approach in the car window as the tears streamed down my face. Maybe those tears were part of the warning signal. My subconscious worked very hard to form those few tears, but I cry so much that I didn’t interpret them correctly. I took them for simple tears of joy, streaming down a lovers cheeks, which, to be fair, they were. But I wasn’t analyzing those tears one by one. I wasn’t dissecting their purpose and questioning their dark implications. Instead I laughed at them, those foolish drops. And when you finally (and I say finally because it seemed a lifetime you took to reach me) came close enough to turn to, I did. I ran into your arms like a mouse to the cheese, and still, I didn’t know it was a trap. I didn’t know those arms were about to crush me to pieces in a matter of minutes. I loved you. And well, screw me for loving someone so much that it tears me apart when they refuse to love me back. Excuse me for giving my heart to someone, only wanting the best in the world for them, wishing I could do more for them to make them happy. I don’t think it’s pathetic. I don’t think it’s something to be laughed at or to be ashamed of. I am proud of myself for loving you. I am thankful that I was able to break down my barriers and give my heart to someone. I consider that a noteworthy accomplishment. I wouldn’t take any of it back because I don’t regret it. Even all the shitty memories. The nights crying, trying to figure out why you didn’t love me, the hopeless hoping that every time I came (come) home you would (will) call me and explain how the whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and that you really do love me and always will. No. I wouldn’t take any of that back. Why? Because all that pain showed me just how much I can love. It showed me that I have a future with someone (even though I still hope that someone is you). All that heartbreak is now a part of who I am, and I am not ashamed of that. I am not ashamed of loving you so much that I felt as if my heart would burst. I am not ashamed that I write letters or type texts professing my love to you that I never send. I am not ashamed that I think of you almost every day. I am not ashamed that I long for you and want you more than I’ve wanted anything else. Say what you want about me, make fun of me all you want, call me pathetic, but I am not ashamed that I’m in love with you.