I know what you’re feeling.
I don’t pretend to know the extent of your pain. I’m not here to dismiss the traumatic experiences you’ve bravely survived.
But human to human, I know what you’re feeling.
I know the fear of sabotaging something beautiful.
I know that nauseous pain that you’re no good for anyone.
I know the darkness that accompanies abandonment.
I know what it’s like to hurt in places for which there’s no medicine.
I know the worry that nobody around you understands.
I know the concern of being a weight too heavy for others to bear.
I had been sabotaged too.
I had been convinced that I was no good for anyone.
My zip code was once the darkness of abandonment.
I, too, hurt in places no prescription could repair.
Just like you, I once felt that no one was capable of understanding or lifting me.
I know what it feels like to feel broken beyond repair.
Or at least, I thought I did. Then I met you. Just like you, I wasn’t ready to love someone else yet.
I was barely ready to ask for your name, much less your phone number.
I wasn’t ready for your bravery and survival to show me a walking miracle.
I wasn’t ready for the butterflies that followed our very first day together. I wasn’t ready for the deep talks that led to as many tears as smiles.
I wasn’t ready to discover the one girl in this world that quotes all the same movies as I do.
I wasn’t ready for the unmatched beauty that can intimidate me at times.
I wasn’t ready for the reality that you had to move away because you no longer felt safe in our area.
I wasn’t ready to feel more heartbroken over your experience than I was my own.
I wasn’t ready to educate myself on details of the past you’d survived.
I wasn’t ready to be the only person available to be by your side on one of the hardest days of your life.
But I’m glad I was.
Because that was the day I had fallen so deeply for someone, I stopped caring that I wasn’t ready.
I wasn’t ready to love you. But I did. I wasn’t ready for the long sleepless nights that love would deliver. But I welcomed them. I wasn’t ready for the possibility that it may not work out. But I accepted it.
Because behind all the walls, behind all the things people may consider baggage, behind all the darkness and self-doubt was someone worthy of things previously unknown.
I don’t believe in love at first sight.
But I do believe in love at first fright.
The first moment I felt afraid of letting you slip away was the moment that it no longer mattered what I was ready for.
That’s your worth. That’s your value. That’s your impact.
So take your time. Find a way to love yourself even more than I do. However long that takes, remember what I told you.
The worthy will wait.
I may not have been ready to love you, but I’m glad I do.