For you, with you, to you

I messaged you these words earlier, in gratitude tinged with disbelief.

Your perfection is obvious. It’s just a fact. A force.

And you are mine. Mine. And who the fuck is that?

I don’t know. I feel like I have no base, no core. Fuck me, am I husk? Everything I do is impulsive, instinctive, and frankly uncaring. I just do what I want, whenever I want, constantly. I make no plans, have no organisation, no structure. And things just seem to go great.

You are mine. Fuck, how much more can I get? How much richer can I become? Fucking WHY. Why me?  

I have the best friend I could possibly ask for, who has given me this lifestyle and suffers for it every day. My every shortcoming, my every weakness, just another thing for him to make up for.

I have the best family, who give me so much love and stability when I give so little in return. I offer my words, I tell them how much I love them, and they’re sincere, I fucking love them with such intensity I cannot tell you, but in my actions…god, my lack of action is a better word.

I have great friends, people in my life who I love and care for. Some of whom need me right now. I care, I want to be there for them. And then I get distracted. Is it wilfully? Do I subconsciously just not want to get to the effort of being there for people? They’ll wait for me, after all. “Oh that’s just what Ali is like at messaging” and all is forgiven. I don’t know, is the honest answer.

I have so much already, so much I don’t deserve. And now…you.

I have never met anyone like you. You are beautiful in a way that radiates out of you, like an aura, like a wave of positivity and light. When you look me in the eyes and smile, I feel it in my chest, in my stomach. It awakens something primal in me, something visceral and all-consuming.

That force of positivity runs far deeper than your beauty. Your attitude and approach to life, both in your past and in the future takes my breath away. The way you’ve worked to heal, truly heal, and how you now embrace the bad with the good and endeavour to be happy. To start doing what’s right for you. The way you adapt and grow, no matter what life throws at you, leaves me in awe of you.

Conversely, I was given the most fertile soil possible and all the nurturing one could ask for and feel like I have failed to flourish. I am a ball of anxiety and insecurity, so well masked and buried that I don’t know how I’m feeling half the time. I take deep breaths, I relax all the muscles in the body and face, I enforce rigid control over my every move, and boom – I seem calm and confident. Until it all becomes too much, until the anxiety builds up, will no longer be contained. And then I’ll shake. I don’t even know why 90% of the time. I don’t have anxious thoughts or feelings, like I said I barely have thoughts at all. Not conscious ones.

Those insecurities are the classics. I’m not a good person. I’m not deserving of what I have. I’m not good at anything. Sexual insecurities have plagued me my whole life. Relationships so far have been a about masking who I am, melding myself into the person my partner wants. Always agreeable, always giving. I suppose that is the good thing about things without a core – they are flexible.

From before we met, from the months of chatting, you made me feel so secure. That is what I found intoxicating and exhilarating about you. I was completely honest with you about what I was doing – the drugs, the women, the drinking – and you thought it was fine. Hot, even. I told you about my sexual insecurities, and you were fine with that too. I told you I have no plans, I am irresponsible with money, that I didn’t know what I wanted or what would make me happy. All fine.

It doesn’t feel like you’re just understanding, or that you can put up with my flaws. It feels like you like them, like you embrace them. Like my specific flaws are the ones you wanted all along. You tell me you adore every inch of me, and I believe that. Truly, deeply, I do. Usually I would be a pessimist, I would think that’s just something people say. With you it feels literal, and I love it.

You are perfect, and you are mine. I would like to be worthy of that. You make me want to do better. To be better. For you, and for me.