My love,
Technically speaking, my love language is acts of service. Actions speak louder than words. I love when you hold the door for me, make me food, help me carry groceries, do the laundry with me. I love when you walk on the side closest to the road. I love when you put your hand on the small of my back to let me go in front of you to order my food. I love that you drive more carefully when I am in the car.
What I really want more than anything is the ability to feel every deep emotion, to think every philosophical thought, and to share a mutual understanding that I am innately passionate and intense and insane, and to be loved because of it, not in spite of it.
I am tired of feeling like I am too much. I want to be admired for my biggest childhood insecurity, which is now the thing I love most about myself.
I want you to love the parts of me that many call weak, too trusting. I want you to see me the way I see myself. I want you to see that I am strong for my ability to know myself and love myself and feel all that I feel, to be in tune with my deepest fears and emotions and to still hold a positive outlook when my world is falling apart.
I want you to know how to comfort me. I’m not asking for anything significant. You don’t have to share empathy with me. You don’t have to cry with me. You don’t have to say anything to take away my sadness. I just want kindness and comfort. A simple hug, a gentle touch. I want you to allow me to wallow. I want you to sit with me, let my tears stain your shirt. No eye rolling, no logical advice, just hold me as I cry. Sit with me the way my cat would. Sit with me as I read a book, just to feel your presence and support. We could be alone together. Because your company is warm and comforting.
Eventually, you will learn what makes me laugh when I’m crying. You will know my comfort shows, my comfort foods and my favorite blanket. You will learn that when I am sick I like to have herbal tea and soup with my ice-pack eye covers. But for now, I just need to know that you do not see my sensitivity as a negative thing. To love me is to love my deep feeling.
When I feel deeply, the world is beautiful, and it makes you ten times more beautiful to me. I want to send you every song lyric I write like a cat dropping a bird at your door. I want to pour every romantic thought into paper and not feel stupid doing it. I want to send you every Pinterest board, every poem that resonates, every essay or Goodreads review I write and know that you are paying close attention, accepting the truest parts of me with open arms. Because that is how I communicate, through art and music and writing. It is how I express myself. And to know that you appreciate it is to know that you appreciate me.
In return, I will peel an orange for you. I will de-seed a pomegranate for you. I will be there when you need emotional support and I will give you space when you need it. I will do the laundry; I hate doing the laundry. I want to wear your sweaters so much that they become our sweaters. I will fold clothes with you. I will clean my room and my car for you. I will make herbal tea and hot chocolate for you. I will watch your favorite show in full even though it has 1,132 episodes and some movies. I will wash dishes and cook you food. I will make it to the cash register before you do. I will do anything for you.
I will love you as hard as you love me. Because I need to love myself first. Can you meet me halfway?
Love,
Alaina ♡
Your posting is one of the most beautiful I’ve read in a while. It’s how I feel about my wife. All the daily things you describe are part of our lives together.
Can you meet me halfway is a great place to end.