This Is Love?

D⃨e⃨a⃨r⃨ L⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5⃨-1⃨9⃨-2⃨0⃨0⃨2⃨


I⃨ c⃨a⃨n⃨ n⃨o⃨t⃨ t⃨h⃨i⃨n⃨k⃨ l⃨a⃨t⃨e⃨l⃨y⃨.⃨ T⃨h⃨e⃨ o⃨n⃨l⃨y⃨ t⃨h⃨i⃨n⃨g⃨ t⃨h⃨a⃨t⃨ i⃨s⃨ g⃨o⃨i⃨n⃨g⃨ t⃨h⃨r⃨o⃨u⃨g⃨h⃨ m⃨y⃨ h⃨e⃨a⃨d⃨ a⃨l⃨l⃨ d⃨a⃨y⃨ i⃨s⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨.⃨ I⃨ m⃨i⃨s⃨s⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨.⃨



𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗶,. .. . . . . . . . . . . . 𝟱--𝟮𝟱--𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟮


𝗜 𝗰𝗮𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁. 𝗢𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝗺𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗵𝘀. 𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗶 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘂𝗽 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻 𝗱𝗿𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗜 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗜 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲. 𝗧𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲.



D⃨e⃨a⃨r⃨ l⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨,⃨. . . . . . . . . . . . . 5⃨-2⃨9⃨-2⃨0⃨0⃨2⃨


N⃨o⃨p⃨e⃨.⃨ i⃨m⃨p⃨o⃨s⃨s⃨i⃨b⃨l⃨e⃨.⃨ I⃨ w⃨a⃨n⃨t⃨ t⃨o⃨ s⃨e⃨e⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨ a⃨g⃨a⃨i⃨n⃨.⃨ S⃨o⃨m⃨e⃨t⃨i⃨m⃨e⃨s⃨ I⃨ h⃨a⃨t⃨e⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨ f⃨o⃨r⃨ g⃨o⃨i⃨n⃨g⃨ a⃨w⃨a⃨y⃨ f⃨o⃨r⃨ t⃨h⃨e⃨ s⃨u⃨m⃨m⃨e⃨r⃨.⃨ B⃨u⃨t⃨ h⃨a⃨t⃨i⃨n⃨g⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨ i⃨s⃨ j⃨u⃨s⃨t⃨ I⃨m⃨p⃨o⃨s⃨s⃨i⃨b⃨l⃨e⃨.



𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗶, . . . . . . . . . . . 𝟲--𝟯--𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟮


𝗜 𝗮𝗺 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆. 𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗺𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗜 𝘀𝗮𝘆 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝘀𝗵 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝗜 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗱 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘁𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗹𝗲𝘁 𝗚𝗼.


D⃨e⃨a⃨r⃨ l⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨.⃨ . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6⃨-⃨-⃨1⃨2⃨-⃨-⃨2⃨0⃨0⃨2⃨


I⃨ t⃨h⃨i⃨n⃨k⃨ i⃨ l⃨o⃨v⃨e⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨.⃨ Y⃨o⃨u⃨ m⃨a⃨k⃨e⃨ m⃨e⃨ s⃨m⃨i⃨l⃨e⃨ l⃨i⃨k⃨e⃨ n⃨o⃨ o⃨n⃨e⃨ e⃨l⃨s⃨e⃨ c⃨a⃨n⃨.⃨ I⃨ t⃨h⃨i⃨n⃨k⃨ a⃨b⃨o⃨u⃨t⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨ m⃨o⃨r⃨e⃨ t⃨h⃨a⃨n⃨ i⃨ s⃨h⃨o⃨u⃨l⃨d⃨.⃨ p⃨l⃨e⃨a⃨s⃨e⃨ d⃨o⃨n⃨t⃨ h⃨a⃨t⃨e⃨ m⃨e⃨,⃨ o⃨r⃨ a⃨t⃨ l⃨e⃨a⃨s⃨t⃨ w⃨r⃨i⃨t⃨e⃨ m⃨e⃨ b⃨a⃨c⃨k⃨.⃨



𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗿 𝗸𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗶, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝟲-𝟭𝟴-𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟮


𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗯𝗲𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗶𝗳𝘂𝗹. 𝗜 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝘄. 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗜 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗼𝗸𝗮𝘆 𝗮𝗴𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗶 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘃𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗲. 𝗜 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗘𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗧𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲.


D⃨e⃨a⃨r⃨ l⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨,⃨ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6⃨-2⃨7⃨-⃨2⃨0⃨0⃨2⃨


Y⃨o⃨u⃨ d⃨o⃨n⃨t⃨ k⃨n⃨o⃨w⃨ h⃨o⃨w⃨ m⃨u⃨c⃨h⃨ t⃨h⃨a⃨t⃨ m⃨e⃨a⃨n⃨s⃨.⃨ I⃨ w⃨a⃨s⃨ s⃨o⃨ s⃨c⃨a⃨r⃨e⃨d⃨.⃨ Y⃨o⃨u⃨ m⃨a⃨k⃨e⃨ m⃨e⃨ s⃨o⃨ h⃨a⃨p⃨p⃨y⃨.⃨ O⃨h⃨,⃨ l⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨.⃨w⃨h⃨a⃨t⃨ i⃨ w⃨o⃨u⃨l⃨d⃨ g⃨i⃨v⃨e⃨ t⃨o⃨ s⃨e⃨e⃨ y⃨o⃨u⃨ a⃨g⃨a⃨i⃨n⃨.⃨



𝗠𝘆 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝗮𝗱𝗶, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 𝟳-𝟮-𝟮𝟬𝟬𝟮


𝗜 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗯𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗯𝗲𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝘁. 𝗦𝗲𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗶𝗻 𝟭𝟯 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝟴 𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘀.



M⃨y⃨ L⃨o⃨g⃨a⃨n⃨,⃨


I⃨l⃨l⃨ b⃨e⃨ w⃨a⃨i⃨t⃨i⃨n⃨g⃨.⃨


↛♡↚


So this is love? I can tell there are pieces missing. Letters stored somewhere else. But that make each other so happy.


Not once do they talk about what needs to change. He doesn’t comment on her body. She never says he is too loud.


This is sort of pretty? It doesn’t seem hard or stressful. I hear footsteps outside the door and I immediately start to stuff the slips of paper back into the box. Before I can close the box the door opens. I should have gone faster instead of treating each paper like it was made of ice and would shatter.


My mom is in the doorway. She looks confused at first before she sees the box. But her reaction wasn’t what I thought it would be. She found me looking through her stuff. But she didn’t yell. She smiled softly and sat beside me.


“Those me and your dads old letters. I dont have all of them in there though. The less cute ones are in a file upstairs.”


I blinked up at her. Not knowing what to say. I was trill getting over the fact that she didn’t yell at me or punish me like he did. When he saw me looking in one of his drawers he yelled. A lot. And he made me walk home. It was only a few miles but it was iced out and I was wearing sneakers.


“Those were good days. That’s how you got your name you know? Once he wrote me saying he was going to marry me one day.” She smiled into her lap. “He said we would get a house together. And have a daughter named Zoe.”


She brought her eyes to mine. I smiled softly. Her eyes hand a sort of soft glimmer.


She showed me the rest where they talked more about school and there problems at the time. They had a few fights. But they never did something horrible. My dad always apologized and my mom always said she loved him even when he made mistakes.


I wanted this. I wanted to feel like our relationship was something magical and not something that put stress on me. I wanted to feel deserving of love. Not like I need to stay with him because he is the only one who ever would. But what if he didn’t love me at all. It didn’t feel like love.


But every time I tired to leave it went something like this.


“I think we need to break up.”


“No you don’t.”


“What?”


“You only want to break up because you think it will make it better But we both know it won’t”


“You’re right. I love you”


But not this time.


It was hard at first. Like a burning deep in my chest and stomach.


And then came the regret. Like maybe he was right. Like he is the only one who could ever love me and I just let him go.


And then came the peace. I was free. After the pain went away it was like someone turned all the lights on and I could see. See the abuse and hurt. And I was okay again. I didn’t think I would be at first. But I am. It’s like I have been drowning and someone just pulled me out of the water and wrapped a warm towel around me. But even with the towel around me, I still get cold sometimes.


And that’s okay. Because I am better now than I was before. Thank you mama for teaching me the difference between love and pain.


———♡———

✍️

Just for funsies! Not a lot to say about this one!


Just think every once in a while how you feel. How he/she makes you feel in your mind, in your shoulders, chest, stomach. If it isn’t building you up, it might not be as good as you think it is.


I hope you guys are going good!


I love all of you a lot!


I really love your guys comments. Reading them makes me so so happy! If you don’t know what to comment:


What is your favorite book that you read last year?


That way I can get to know you! Because I do care.


I love you a lot!


I didn’t edit! But I never do! Please don’t have a tragic death while reading it!


✨🤍✨


I think this is romance? I dont know🫣

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