it's you.

For each attempt to put it into words,
I do nothing but repeat things inexplicable to describe,
despite the number of times I have tried,
and have failed so pathetically,
for every time I do.

It has always been you.

Maybe, if I were to say it the way I do, before things got out of hand as I slipped away from my own self, I would say it's in his eyes. How it glistens and enlarges with excitement. Maybe it's in the way he holds my hand, how the tighter I held, the firmer his grip would get. Or how I would open my arms for a hug, as I awkwardly call out the action and understandingly he would go in for one, letting me settle into it, almost tranced by the warmth of his embrace- I could stay this way forever. 

Maybe the perturbation by just how little we say, but to feel so close although we're far away. It might be how it feels like home to just be. How each touch felt like my own, without angst, any sense of discomposure or doubt. When every wrong might never be right, opposed to how I would perceived it with anyone before him. Still, instead, every fault or flaw only led me to strive for better, make do with what is given, never complacent, only ever so grateful. Every obstacle, with him, never (to my astonishment), made it felt as if it was nothing but futile. Better or more, I'd want to have and become it all with him.

Must have been all that he envisions, the plans and thoughts he minds to share, it must have won me over. Spellbound by the kindness and presence. Still that isn't it. What if it wasn't much of what's on the surface that made a difference? If maybe, just like most things we've been living denying, it's all from what comes deep within you.

It is how I see who I was, in who he is, and what could be by what I've done and how he's changed. I can't quite say, if it is what it is- my other half as they would call it. However, to have met him, got to know him has convinced me, after everything, that he's not one that I would without doubt, let go at ease. As if it were meant to be, as if it means more than beyond what I am sure of today, I couldn't if I tried. Like the innocence I've misplaced where I would not go back to, he fills in a gap I would not have noticed was present for the longest of time. As real as reality and life could get, he is it all.

It's such a shame, he came at a time where I couldn't have loved with all that I had, be that as it may, despite my full consciousness of my condition, miraculously I still took him in; held him close. A complete stranger I was so eager to keep in spite of every possibility to get screwed over. It's hilarious to me, because it isn't. Yet to regret a thing. Does that hurt? Out of every one I've got with, he is, as cliche as it might sound to any, the first I have loved profoundly, so very dearly he is to me it's preposterous to even me. Feels much like loving yourself for the first time. Though I am not who I was. The world doesn't become greater to me, but I get better, when with him.

If every being, or incidents, I had to put up with or got myself into were the reason that lead me to him, to this, to what I now have, it must have not been so bad after all. Every agony, near death experiences, joy and that of what I have lost, is merely as bad as how it would be to not have him now. Even if it has all turned me to what I am instead of who I am today, and how it leaves me incapable of being better or is more deserving of any wonders of the world, I am glad it gave me the chance to get to share this part of my life with him whether or not this would only be for a little awhile, it's been the most I have made out of my disenchanted self. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

-riri-