Patience

I've always loved love. The notion of being so completely wrapped in a passionate emotion for another human being to a point where each breath they take, you take as well. When your heart beats together and every emotion they feel you feel with at the very least the same intensity. It's tormenting and more than just a little bit insane. But at its perfection it is beautiful and worth every single second.

I believe there are different levels of love. And no I don't mean to say that the love you share for a husband or wife is different from the love you have for your sister. Those differences are to me, obvious. They are not so much levels of love but simply different kinds of love. When I say there are different levels of love I'm talking about the love you have for a romantic partner. Because it's late and I lack creativity I will simply say there is a level 1, a level 2, and a level 3. With there being multiple levels I would have to say that it is possible to fall in love more than once.

When I was 15 I fell in love with a boy in my ROTC class named Justin. It lasted a whole three months and the heartache I felt between the end of the 6th hour bell to the ring of the 7th hour bell was seriously awful. I spent most of 7th hour crying outside the portable classroom's bathroom until a security guard found me and took me to the counselor's office where I continued to cry. I moped around for days, felt confused and empty for month and then finally became okay with it for about a week. Then I went on my first church retreat. My Confirmation retreat to be exact. There I was stalked by some crazy Italian with a hat I hated but somehow without even really wanting to, was completely drawn to. Within days I found myself skyrocketing into level two of love. Months turned into years, and just a month and a few days shy of three years later I found myself driving home from his house just minutes before New Year's crying hysterically as the moment finally came when I knew it was completely over.
Sparing the complicated details, for two months, I dwelt half-way between level two and three with a childhood friend and sweetheart that I ended out of fear, out of guilt, and out of what I really think was ultimately God's will. And then well, there came Chris.
Stating it like that of course makes it sound like Chris didn't exist before or during any of my past relationships. And to be fair I didn't know Chris during my first, and the very beginning of my second. But 6 months into my relationship with Jeremy, Chris was there and he's been there every second since.

I asked Chris an important question tonight. A question that I honestly felt like I deserved an answer to. I'm not certain still if I really liked the answer even. Actually I'm pretty sure I didn't. But it did leave me a little more content. Perhaps even a little more certain, if that were at all possible. Because Chris is my level three. Chris is the kind of love millions of people search for, and only a few people I truly believe actually find. Chris is the kind that makes you crazy. The kind that argues and then a second after laughs it off. Chris is the kind you want to understand and truly grasp, but secretly enjoy the mystery of. Chris is the kind you would die for without so much as a second thought. The kind you would never give away. The kind that lasts so much more than a simple lifetime. One that extends into eternity.

The kind of love that defines patience, even when you no longer wish to have it.

Pathetically Needy

You know I wish at least one person would read this. One person would acknowledge my existence. My thoughts, my pains, my worries.

I used to love to write. I still do actually but time is something I have little of. But these days I just want someone to know what I have to say. I want someone to care enough to listen. To take a few minutes out of their day and think of me.

I don't even know if Chris does that.

I'm tired of being invisible. I'm tired of getting so close, and then just as quickly falling back down.

What the hell is wrong with me?