Here’s the thing. Our story is one that will be written down. Love me or hate me for it, it’s bound to happen, but I promise to do it justice. There is simply too much of us to keep bottled up, and every other day with you can turn into another plot twist. I love that you keep me on my toes. I love that you’ll talk and talk and talk to me until you find the right words. Hell, I even love that we have to figure out how keep ourselves afloat amidst an absolute wreck of circumstances. Our story, though far from over and certainly not planned, is a good one.
And so I wanted to warn you: it will be written down. I take notes every night, scribbling about the sweet things you say. I write letters – not to send, but to keep in case I someday have the chance to watch you read them. I mention our funny moments to my friends in case I need them repeated back to me. I save screenshots of our texts for the days I need proof that you were part of me.
I’m not trying to immortalize us. I’m not pretending that I can create a storybook ending if I can win the race to our end. I’m well-aware that I care more than you do, and I know that in doing so I’m staring down the barrel of a gun. But I can afford to do that better than you can. I can go all in right now, I don’t have to wait for the same things as you to sort themselves out. And I know that it might be my big wrong move, but I’m okay with waiting for you. There’s nothing I enjoy like living more life with you, but we can take breaks from writing new content. It gives me time to re-read what we’ve gotten down so far, and that’s the next best thing.