To My High School Sweetheart

So I was thinking about you today, and everything you’ve accidentally taught me about love.

I realized I really never thanked you, at least not as often as I should have.


It’s true there is a mother’s love: an innate one that never fails, is always protective, and lets you fall only to pick you up again.

There is a lover’s love: passionate and intense, thriving on chaos and flourishing in commotion; the attention means more than the feelings ever will.

There is friend love, food love, pet love, and mood love…

And then there is how you loved me.

You came into my life, and I was more than you bargained for. When you bet me I’d fall in love with you, I made a bet of my own you’d fall first. I told you how you talk was stupid, and you told me I had a lot to learn.

Over time, you noticed and memorized my oddities: how many minutes after eating before I get the hiccups, what color my lips turn when I’ve forgotten to drink water, which hours of the day I usually take my nap, and how fast my heartbeats when I think too hard.

You licked my tears off your thumb when they fell, and never once made me feel guilty or stupid for crying. You allowed the ceaseless texts as I tried to convey my thoughts and, even in our worst moments, you never left a call unanswered.

You made a million apologies you shouldn’t have had to. You never asked me to change, you always asked me to try, and you took the time to read between lines I couldn’t even untangle to understand me.

That was it.

Instead of just getting to know me, you got to understand me. Instead of just loving me, you cared for me. Instead of just keeping my company, you showed me the value of time. Embarrassing you was impossible because you embraced every single quirk, and to this day I can remember both times you ever yelled at me. Only twice. Only twice, even though God himself can’t even keep track of the amount of times I’ve gone off on you.

You were the first person who was able to drag me out of my own head and open my eyes to a world of hope that I thought I’d forgotten.

My favorite moments didn’t come from big trips, vacations, or proms. They came from crawling through windows and hiding under beds. They came from dances in parking lots and on kitchen floors. They came from Red Robin baskets and Sobe water bottles and filthy white Vans.

You showed me what it was like to be adored, to be appreciated, and to be valued. You set a standard not only for future relationships, but for how I hope to one day love myself. Because of you, never again will I settle. Because of you, never again will I question whether or not I’m desirable. Because of you, I live for the little moments.

Thank you.





This amazing boy writes for this sports website if you wanna check it out.


Random Musings, One

Have you ever held somebody, and felt like you couldn’t get close enough? Like no matter how tightly you squeezed or how deeply you buried yourself into them, it just wasn’t close enough?

Maybe you hang on every word they say. They could tell you the same stories, the same jokes, the same ideas over and over again, and even though you know the punchline every time, you don’t mind listening.

Perhaps their success means more to you than your own ever will. The good in their life doesn’t spark even the smallest amount of jealousy, because their happiness and comfort means more to you than pride ever will.

And it’s possible one look in their eyes destroys any fear you thought you ever had. Tears they caused can only be dried by them, anger they created can only be overcome by them.

Maybe their turmoil becomes yours. Every sadness and illness, every ounce of pain is felt in your core as if it were your own. You seek to fix intangible cracks, and fill invisible holes.

And you know in the deepest, most secret parts of you that if their heart were to stop beating, yours would lose its purpose as well.

We have gotten trapped into this idea that there is only one or two ways to love someone. This just can’t be true. You can adore someone with all the deepest depths of your heart, but not be able to be with them.

You can worship the ground someone walks on, and never say it out loud. It can be in the subtleties of your interactions. Asking if they’re cold, if they’re eating.

It can be behind the scenes: watching their life progress without you in it in any way you can.

You can love someone at the wrong time, stars crossing on the verge of their supernova, too volatile to interact, but still brilliant and beautiful in their destruction.

You can love someone too deeply, enabling toxic habits for the sake of the peace, and for fear of abandonment.

You can love someone too protectively, attempting to shield them from all the world’s evils, never allowing them the pain they need to grow.

You can love innocently, blind to the possibility of heartbreak and disappointment. Ignorant to flaws and mistakes made.

You can love suspiciously, questioning every compliment, every kiss, every song. You can wonder what is real, assume the worst, and live on the adrenaline of never knowing.

You can love lustfully, savoring deep kisses and deeper sighs. Reveling in moonlight, but never in daylight.

You can love in every aspect of your soul, allowing it to consume you and confirm in your heart of hearts what you know to be true.

There is not one way to love someone. There is not one way to be loved. Do not miss the rays of light that shine into your life simply because you are unsure what color they shine. Allow all aspects of love to enter your life, and allow all facets of your heart to explain them.