I don’t want to write another “If you really knew me” poem or post because I’m tired of feeling like I’m full of secrets. Instead, this is a “If you’d take the time to know me” note. This is what would happen if someone stayed curious enough to stick around a while.
If you’d take the time to know me, you’d quickly learn that I’m just as laid-back as I am shy. I hardly notice dog hair on my clothes anymore, I’m not a huge fan of air conditioning, and I own way, way too many picture frames. Eventually, you’d come to see that I’m a nostalgic and that I get sentimental over some of the dumbest things. I have tattoos in places few people see. I have no problem with drinking alone. If you’d take the time to know me, you’d see that I fall fast and love hard, and even though I’ve been burned, I think the scars left behind on me are kind of neat.
Gradually, you would find that I’m not as adventurous of an eater as I claim. I would inevitably fire you up with a rant about church and state, only to turn around and bore you to death with ramblings from Thought Catalog. If you were paying attention, it wouldn’t take long for you to realize that I’m always going to be scared of being forgotten. You’d learn firsthand that I’m a terrible singer but a decent writer, and that I like to go out to eat by myself sometimes.
If you’d take the time to know me, you’d get to experience my frustration-flushed face after holiday gatherings at my dad’s. You would slowly notice the gentle way I write about my past flames. And the way I make my peanut butter sandwiches would undoubtedly capture your attention before long. If you’d stick around, you could probably even hear stories of my childhood courtesy of my invasive, but well-meaning, mother.
I’m a quiet person and I’m slow to open up, but once I’m in, I’m really in. I don’t half-ass things, and relationships certainly aren’t any exception. I promise to work with you and not against you. I promise to let you in, but you have to take the time.