Wednesday, February 17, 2010


I'm terrified. And happy to the point that I can't stop smiling. Nice combo, huh? Mr. Random, also known as my sweet boy, is the source of my pleasure and my pain. As his new nickname would imply, he's considerate, thoughtful, and attentive. I've done nothing but be myself with him; I haven't tried to heal him or make him happy. I just give myself over to the joy of being with him, and he adores me. Which should be, and is, a cause for joy. That doesn't mean I'm not scared, though. I don't know that I am worthy of his devotion. And I worry that my insecurity will push him away.

He says things that are so amazing I feel my heart stutter in my chest, even as I struggle to catch my breath from laughing at his latest random bit. He shows me everyday that he has picked me - that he wants to be with me. After working over 70 hours last week, he still surprised me with flowers on Valentine's Day. I had started to believe romance didn't exist in real life - that movies and books had lead me down a path where I would never find fulfillment - until I met my sweet boy. Romance doesn't look exactly how I pictured it, but I think this is better. His romance, like his humor, is random and keeps me on my toes. I don't want to catch my balance.

All I want it to believe I deserve this. That I deserve him.

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