My Love is Not an Apology

I apologize.

For your hurt.

For mine.

For interrupting – please, continue.

For my broken, ambiguous thoughts.

For my compulsive nature.

For singing – I’ll quiet down.

I apologize.

For getting too excited.

For not replying.

For my outspoken nature – I shouldn’t have said that.

For taking some time for me.

For saying that thing to you 3 years ago.

For venting – I don’t want to burden you with all of this.

I apologize.

For not being stronger.

For being late (as usual) – I’ll be better next time.

For not being enough.

This is for all the times you forgot what it felt like to be loved… really loved. Loved for who you are, your passions, your ambitions, your accomplishments, and your love for them.

For the times you walked into a room or said something and immediately wished you hadn’t.

The times you hung out with your best friend and felt like you shouldn’t be there the whole time; when you felt like they could be doing something – anything – better than hanging out with you.

For all the times your heart broke seeing Them happier with Someone Else.

The times you picked up the phone to call your friend just to talk it out and tell someone you’re not okay right now.

For all the times you wished someone would tell you, “It’s okay not to be okay,” just so you could hear it from someone else’s lips.  

For all the times you felt lost.

If it wasn’t obvious enough, I apologize a lot. I try not to, it just slips out when I empathize with someone’s situation or when I run into a door frame or a mannequin I mistake for a real person. Apologizing is one of the ways I show my love for another person, but my love is not an apology. As hard as that is for me to admit – sometimes I feel like it is. I have turned my love into an apology. No more.

My love is colorful – it burns orange and yellow like a candle.

It is an inspiration and calming in all its vulnerability.

My love presents itself as my open ears and heart, willing to give all I have to others.

It is gratitude and freedom, running wild.

My love is surprising and powerful, messily organized and adventurous, spreading like wildfire.

My love is not an apology, it is a “thank you.”

Thank you.

For waiting for me.

For jamming out with me in the car for hours.

For your sweet compliment – I accept.

For listening to me as I talk about my passions and whims.

Thank you.

For sharing your story with me – I am here to listen.

For trusting me.

For sitting with me while I cried and validating me.

For laughing with me.

For spending your precious time with me.

Thank you.

For celebrating with me – What accomplishments we have earned!

For supporting me in my hour of need and the hours after.

For loving me back and showing me your love.

For letting me be me in every moment.

Thank you.

Love,

me.

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