To my future lover,
I don’t know how we will meet. Possibly you’ll come from a mutual friend and they introduce me as “Liz, she’s my short, sweet and sassy friend!” and maybe you’ll find that really funny. Maybe I will meet you on my way to work and you notice the pins on my denim jacket and ask me what they are. Maybe I’ll meet you at my future job, during a job event, talking about the things that interest us or about the funny things that happen at our job. Maybe I will just shoot my shot one day, come to you and say that your tattoos look nice or that your hair looks so bad-ass. Maybe I’ll be bold enough to see you at my current job at the bookstore, write my phone number on your receipt in hopes you’ll call or text me. (For reference, I did that to a guy earlier this year and although we aren’t dating, he’s an amazing fucking friend).
I say this because I will probably tell you that I like you way too early in our relationship, I will probably get flustered and red when I say or do something that I think is major when really, you didn’t even read too much into it. I will probably get way too attached way too soon and express the fact that I will be afraid of losing you because there have been so many in the past that have left because I was “doing too much” or I left because I thought “I wasn’t good enough”. You were probably catch on extremely quick to the fact that I’m hypersensitive, I’m anxious, and the sweet fun-loving girl you got to know isn’t always going to be there. Sometimes, I’ll be the opposite; sometimes I will push you away because I feel like I’ll hurt you or that I’ll be too much for you in my bad moments. Sometimes I will hold onto things for hours on end because my anxiety will not let it go for the life of me. Sometimes, I may annoy you, disappoint you, anger or frustrate you due to the way I handle things.
I hope that you love me through it all.
Reassure me. Tell me that I can be loved. Tell me I’m good enough. Tell me that my feelings are valid and that whatever bad things I may be thinking or feeling, that they will pass soon. Hug me when it looks like I’m about to fall apart. Shush me when I cry while you rub my back. Listen when my irrational thoughts are pouring out and I can’t stop. Distract me with things that will make me smile, like silly random videos, or pictures of my favorite Kpop group; literally about anything that leaves a smile on my face.
Most importantly, I hope that after the storm, after the tears and the anxiety attacks and episodes, you still smile and see me and love me for… me.
Love me for the moments when I’m laughing and I can’t breathe because of the laughter. Love me for the moments where we go on adventures and explore the city together. Love me for my body, big or small, short or tall, and love me for my hair; light or dark, short or long; love me by being here and by being my favorite person in the world.
Love me, even for my sadness. My bad days. My lonely days. My mental disorders. For me.
Letters From Liz. 