Happy Anniversary, Love

You mean the world to me, and you are the best thing to have ever stumbled into my life

If I could go back to October of last year and change anything, it would only be that you met me in a better place than that I was in.

Otherwise, everything would remain the same.

I’ve told you a thousand times, and I’ll tell you a hundred thousand more—your existence has undoubtedly saved my life.

You’ve done one thing that nothing else on this Earth has ever done: You’ve shown me a future that I’m still a part of.

I’m not shitting you when I say nothing, either.

For the first time in years, there are times where I can wake up and think, “I’d like to live, kthx.” Not just, “Eh… whatever,” but actual desire to live.

Even when I struggle, still wishing I wouldn’t, I wake up with the thought that I have something—someone—to fight for, to look for, to look forward to being with.

For the first time in a long time, I can say that I’ve been truly happy.

Even when I’m borking out, manic or depressive, getting fucked without lube by new meds, CD episodes clusterfucking my CNS, I am still truly happy. Because of you.

You make me smile, laugh, speak, when I don’t think I can.

Last night, when Lorrie and Sunna were making a break for the window… or rather, Lorrie made it and Sunna was trying, I smiled.

Listening to you bitch them out in Dutch lessened the pressure in my chest and slowed my heart rate enough to keep my primary from throwing heart meds at me. It eased the anxiety/manic fuckery. It always does.

You taught me my first Dutch phrases, those that I could pronounce correctly even. You continue to teach me Dutch despite English being your first preference.  You answer my questions, laugh at the stupid shit Duolingo does (that likely isn’t funny, but I find hilarious).

You re-introduced me to my steam account, reminded me that video games are a distraction/relaxation method. You also introduced me to the other Eurofags. Those that were once “your friends”, became “our friends.”

Potet-o, Adam, Cait, Kat, Steven, Mandy, Matt, Niles, Raz, Tuci, Andy, Doge, Erkie (despite wanting to bitch-slap him half the time). I could go on…, but I’m a lazy fuck. 😀

You taught me how to mod, too. Sure, I had the management experience from Taco “Fuck That Place” Cabana, but there are a few skills that apply to online management-type shit that I didn’t have. I learned to be Hitler when necessary…, which is necessary more often than I initially thought. Wielding dat banhammer.

When you fell asleep last night, and I tabbed back over to Discord, I… wanted to cry when I saw you sleeping. A tad bit because I wish I were there, sleeping beside you, but primarily because… I don’t know how to explain it (I’m bad at emotions; you know that). It wasn’t out of sadness though. Happiness. Comfort, maybe? Seeing someone sleep, sleeping beside them, is seeing them, being with them, in one of their most vulnerable states. And I get to see that of you, as you do me.

Never have I been so attached to someone. Not even Danika. Never has six hours without someone’s presence been so excruciatingly painful. Never has a single person been enough to motivate me to change myself for the better. Never has anyone incited sexual attraction, made a sex drive an issue. Never has anyone motivated me to learn another language so intensely, instilled a strong desire to immigrate to a specific country just to be with them.

…Until I Met You, Anyway…

From the moment I met you, I was attracted to you.

Your personality, your morality, your sense of humor, your open-mindedness, your stubbornness, your willingness to take others as they are, your tendency to help others while shoving your own issues aside, your introspective ability (that does get you into trouble with yourself sometimes).

Then I saw your face.

And I fell even more in love with you.

I can’t forget the first time I saw you smile—the way your eyes smiled, too, sparkling under the glow of your monitors.

I can’t forget the first time I saw you laugh. I swear the sound carried across the Atlantic and drifted directly to my tiny student apartment.

I can’t forget the first time… you watched me fall apart. You stopped and picked up the pieces, ensuring that not a single sliver was left behind, before helping me force them back into (roughly) the same place.

“You picked up every shard of a broken woman…., and took every fragmented piece of her for who she was.”

And each time those pieces shattered further, you stopped to pick up the remains. You refuse to give up on those pieces, believing they’ll one day form a whole person again.

I’m so sorry for the venom, the tears, the caustic words spit in a biochemical whirlwind.
I’m sorry for being so much to handle at times,
for breaking so often,
for being so broken.
I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to hurt you.

Just know that I don’t mean it. That sometimes, it comes out of the shitstorm that is my brain chemistry. That sometimes, I want to talk about something, but it just comes out in the wrong way, at the wrong time.

I make no excuses for my behavior…, but I acknowledge that my fragile psyche makes these things more likely to occur.

Ik hou zo veel van jou, mijn Nederlandse beertje.
Zo, zo veel.
Je bent mijn stralende licht in de duisternis.
Je altijd was,
en je zult altijd zijn.

(I tried; it’s intelligible, but wrong still. ._.’)

I know I don’t say any of this enough, and I’m sorry for that, too. Just know that it’s true.

~Je Kleine Vogeltje

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Author: Elendarin

Student pursuing a degree in psychology with a concentration in clinical psych. I enjoy writing, watching baseball, foreign languages, and being a massive nerd.

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