Lucky girl

I’m just the luckiest girl in the world. My boyfriend watched my son overnight  so I could go hang out with my mom and sister, I have to get a procedure done and he texts me to say that he got the days off and approved by management within an hr or 2 of me telling him when it was scheduled, he buys me pickles every time he goes to the grocery store, he goes to all of my son’s IEP meetings, tells me I’m pretty everyday and never makes me feel badly for feeling upset or crying. I never feel like I can’t tell him if something is bothering me,  I can talk to him about anything, we sing System of a down together in the car, play guitar hero, I feel valued and appreciated and he makes me laugh. 

He’s smart, observant, intuitive, compassionate,  affectionate, loving,  witty, empathetic and perceptive.

He’s my best friend. 

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You tried to beat me down. 

You lifted me up so I would fall harder. 

And I fell. 

It hurt. 

Though I was bleeding and bruised, 

I staggered to my feet. 

You said I was your everything. 

You claimed to love me. 

But then you’d see a loose thread on my sweater and pull. 

Pull me apart and watch me unravel on the floor. 

Then with your tongue to lash at my flesh. 

Your words leaving welts on my heart.

Again, bruised and bleeding, you help me to my feet, clean me up.

Only to push me down again. 

I became numb. 

I couldn’t feel the pain but in turn,

I could no longer feel the tenderness of love. 

I was a machine. I was a game. I was a game you were losing.

 And you lost. 

But someone else came along and found the reset button. 

Tuned me up and I’m as good as new. 

I can feel. I was wrong. 

I’m no machine. 

I’m real. He’s real. WE’RE REAL. 

Acceptance and understanding brought me back to life. 

I can breathe and there is no heaviness on my chest. Suffocating me. Smothering me. 

He knows me. All of me. Every me that ever was. 

This is what love is. 

And it’s bliss.