He's All I've Ever Had

Butterfly—that’s what my heart turns into when he speaks to me, fluttering around, weightless.  My stomach turns into a bullfrog that jumps up and down and tries to escape from my abdomen.  The same compliments I’ve always heard from other boys actually mean something coming from his mouth.  When people ask about him, I can’t tell them anything because I don’t know where to begin; and having people associate him with me steals my breath with excitement.

Falling in Love is a funny thing.

Unlocking the twenty padlocks and bolted door to my closet and having him see the cemetery full of skeletons I’ve done so well with hiding…feeling forgiveness.  Telling him all about what is bothering me when I said I don’t want to talk about it five minutes ago, without having to be interrogated.  Telling him things about me that no one else knows, and feeling completely accepted for it.  Dialing the first number on my speed dial every time something horrible or exciting happens, like a nightmare or a new job.   Singing and dancing like a drunkard around the room and seeing his grin every time I twirl in his direction; my silliness is appreciated, not judged.  Feeling special when reading beautiful poems he wrote for me.  Laying under the sheets, our legs and arms tangled in each other, his body radiating heat and his chest as my pillow, feeling completely comfortable.  Feeling safe when getting lost in downtown Pittsburgh at 1 AM with him, because you have to want to be somewhere else to be lost.  Listening to his heartbeat and thinking that as long as it’s still there, so am I.  Making plans for times we’re decades away from, and believing we might carry them through.  Cracking one of our thousand inside jokes and feeling the closeness I never thought I could achieve with another person.

Feeling in Love is a funny thing.

Yelling over the phone until my voice cracks.  Crying until I’m dehydrated.  Staying up until no one else is awake, even on weekend nights, to keep myself unhappy with arguing because I think it can make me happy in the long run.  Not being able to pay attention to any homework, especially the paper in which I’m writing about a poem that compares love to suicide.  Feeling ashamed when my friends know the exact and only reason I’m feeling down; snapping at them when they tell me I deserve “better”.  Swallowing my pride and ignoring faults I think are disgusting, because I care more about him and our relationship’s outcome—also known as “compromising”.  Wondering what life would be like with complete independence, but knowing I wouldn’t have it any other way than this.

Being in Love is a funny thing.

Staying out with whoever I want and wherever I want, with no one to be angry at me when I get home at the wee hours of the morning.  Getting my belly button pierced, because I can.  Not caring if guys hit on me, because I have no loyalty to uphold.  Making plans to go to other states, possibly other countries.  Not dreading the possibility of having a male friend develop feelings for me.  Not feeling the need to impress anyone.  Feeling freedom, for the first time in ages.

Falling out of Love is a funny thing.

Sleeping in a bed, alone.  Sleeping on other peoples’ floors, couches, and beds so I don’t have to sleep alone.  Making plans to go places by myself.  Turning boys down because they’ll never compare, not because I’m taken.  Listening to only screamo music, that numbs my thoughts.  Sleeping with the light on.  Not being able to be alone, ever.  Responding with “fine” when people ask me how I’m doing, and feeling like a total liar.  Crying spontaneously in classes.  Wanting to sleep all the time, without feeling tired. 

Brokenness is a funny thing.

Butterfly-that’s what I feel like when I dance around my room to praise music, leaping and spinning, light-footed and lithe.  Reading my Bible multiple times a day, as if it is medication. Crying out to unseen ears.  Sobbing for hope and the supernatural peace that I’ve been missing.  Putting my life in invisible hands.    Praying as if I am conversing with a friend.  Feeling offended by things I used to indulge in.  Saying things I thought were only said by prudes.  Feeling like a nun when I refrain from doing things with my friends because they’re against my morals.  Forgetting “priorities” I thought were so important.  Asking for approval before every step I want to take is taken.

Falling in Love with God is a funny thing.

“You never know God is all you need until God is all you have.” Frederick Warren