Whatever the mess you are, you're mine, ok?

There's this boy. He's really smart. I'm completely in love with him. Completely. More than I've ever been in love with any boy in my entire crush-heavy life. It's slow and frictiony, slightly exhausting and it grows a little bit deeper every single day. And guess what? He's in love with me too. When he holds my hand, I feel connected to everything and free from it all at the same time. Sometimes I watch him while he's asleep (which is all the time) and I think, now my life has exploded into a real existence.

The most perfect love story ever? Nope. Not by a long shot if you're tallying up perfection by hollywood standards. In fact, if I was sitting across from Dr. Phil, he might listen to our complications and advise me to cut and run. The most important part of all this love is that I've come to a few conclusions that have changed me in a million little and big ways. And then there's this part:

Today he said, "we bring out the best in each other in so many ways." I'm my best self with him even in the parts that are frictiony- that friction borne of honesty seems somehow to meet my roughest parts and create a humility that leads me closer to God. That's pretty F-ing amazing stuff, people. A gift, really. From one soul mate to another.

And what of the end? Still unknown. Neither of us can confidently exclaim that we will be eternally connected though there is so much so much so much hope. Ain't that a kick in the gut? And somehow, it doesn't even matter. Would I do it again? Yes, yes, a million times, yes. Will I do it again should the outcome come out in sadness this time? Yes, yes, a million times, yes. I'm built for love. No regrets.

There was this time when SB and I lay meditating in the morning. Eyes closed, our breath coming in and out. in. out. warm air swirling in and out like slick sea lions. I was breathing in love and breathing out peace. Gently barking a command to every pore and synapse. love and peace. And he was beside me, breathing his own command in sync with mine. Different but the same. I don't know what he was asking his breath to teach him. It wasn't mine to know. Breathing each other's air, pups coasting in and out, pumping warmth into frigid veins full of old sorrow. Eyes closed. Hopeful.