Catharsis

I have always sorted out things most easily through words. I love to write, to create something tangible to represent what I think and feel, what I want and wonder. Words have saved me time and again.

Words aren't just letters to me, I feel them: Max's name is bright blue, warm with crisp water, it feels like the most perfect day. My friends are bright, jumbled, colorful with soft, blurred edges. My Gram is warm, sunny, strong and just by saying "Gram," I belong. The name of the man with whom I am in love is both bold and subtle, bright and grey.

He has made me brave. He keeps me safe. He has challenged and infuriated me as no one else can. I have loved him since the day I met him and it took me too long to realize how lucky I am to have had the opportunity to do so. He loves me, too, this I know. And for each of my brave acts he has rallied with one of his own vulnerabilities. I have challenged and infuriated him, too. He may not have loved me since September 18, 2007, but he has loved me a long time.

But we love differently. And that hurts. Hurts in ways that make me feel like I am turning inside out so I hold my middle. Hurts in ways that makes my usual gregarious and overwhelming self withdraw into a quiet cocoon. Hurts because, despite the differences, he treats my bruised heart gently and respectfully. Because he would never see me scared or in need without flying to the rescue in the silly superman boxers I bought that he only wore to make me smile anyway. Hurts because even if I am loved by someone else, I will not love like I love him. Hurts because it hurts.

Since our first Valentine's Day, in 2008, I have listed 101 reasons I love him. In a little journal, written on 101 origami hearts... always different, always 101. Even on the years that we weren't close there were 101 and in three weeks there will be 101 more. And in the six years we have danced this crazy dance, I have seen that I made so many mistakes. That I needed far too much. That I was just not easy. And I have learned that love doesn't always look the same. That sometimes, love can be overlooked while waiting quietly and calmly to be seen. And I have learned that his name feels so very good.