Young Love: Survival

Do you love me?


Do you need me?



I mean… I don’t need you to survive.


I can survive without you. I did before.

Every day I awoke to blue skies and the Sun’s warmth. My closet held an abundance of clothing bought only with money I earned, and I always managed it until the next paycheck. I even saved enough to buy my own car.

I drove myself to classes and laughed with friends during my free time. Sometimes I’d see you, but I don’t remember most of that. I always thought you had a cute smile, but I didn’t need to see it to get through the day. The clock ticked away, and eventually I’d return to my car and head to work.

For another several hours, I’d pour my energy into the demands of someone above me and each day realized that I wanted to be elsewhere. But I needed money. Money proved a means of survival, not love or a person.

I didn’t need the hugs or kisses of the girls I dated either, but for the good times shared, I considered it pleasant.

I kept myself clean and fashionable, I exercised daily, I kept my grades above average, I grew out of shyness with my own efforts and will, and I worked towards a better life each day. I lived on my own before meeting you, and I managed. Even thrived.

But please don’t misunderstand my point.

You don’t need me either. You’ve been on your own for as long as I have, you’ve shared both similar and varying life challenges, yet you’re here now and survived it all.

You and I don’t need each other to live, but that isn’t what matters.

I want to be with you.

The sky is always blue, but with you it’s bluer. The Sun is always warm and light-hearted, but with you it’s a compassionate embrace. I hear the songs of the birds outside my window, the rustle of the wind in the trees, and I think of you, my love, and feel a smile on my face and butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

I walk through a house that appears no different from before the night I kissed you, yet I see new colors and hum to the music of our confession as if it happened yesterday, even though it’s been months. I smile more, and my friends and family still make comments about it, making me bashful as I edge away to avoid questions about a “she.” I’m constantly caught in a net of wanting to divulge my world with you and wanting to keep it secret, kept close in my heart’s pocket.

I yearn for success as my success is not only mine but ours, and as you work hard, I too want to provide for our team; my weakness, evidently, is my desire to toss aside these assignments and instead call you or, best of all, see you, embrace you, kiss your lips, kiss your cheeks, kiss your nose, and lie with you, your head on my chest, my hand on your head and curling your hair around my finger, all while staring up the ceiling as if the starry sky stared back. My heart once raced nervously in the company of your radiant presence, but now it races with all my joy and internal singing, She’s the perfect girl for me…

Are we a perfect match? Right now I don’t know, but it’s never been about whether or not I need you but how much I want you here to stay.

It took me awhile, but I finally understand.


4 thoughts on “Young Love: Survival

    1. Thank you so much, Jen! Your writing inspires me, and I’m definitely reminded of you when thinking about and rewriting the magic of life’s little moments. 😀


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