A Paradox

We're some sort of paradox. I don't understand it anymore, and I'm done trying to.

Our very existence seems to go against itself.

The thing that has always brought me the most comfort is that you were there. Someone to check out of life with for a night, every now and then, put the masks down. And you're right, it wasn't romantic. Not in the least.

But I revered it because what you showed me was a different kind of respect.

You were here.

You witnessed me in all of my whatever-the-hell, and you still chose to be on the other end of it. No matter your reason for staying. Even if where we are now is saying goodbye.

The staying is what I am grateful for.

The staying is what changed me.

We found each other when I was out here being a wild child, a crazy girl, and somehow you walked me all the way home to myself simply by continuing to meet me in this space.

That's why it meant so much to me.

There are some things people cannot learn alone. It is impossible. Because we're not meant to do everything by ourselves.

And sometimes I feel embarrassed when I look back at some of the things I've done and said, but never enough to hold onto any shame, because you were always there.

And that's more than you think.

My favorite definition of love is from M. Scott Peck:

"Love is the will to extend one's self for the purpose of nurturing one's own or another's spiritual growth..."

That is the space this occupied for me.

So when I say I never needed you to love me, or to feel any particular way about me, I meant exactly what I said.

Your presence did that all by itself.

Now I understand where you are, where I am, what we were, what we weren't, and what we will never be.

But I was never really asking for any of that.