Thursday, June 21, 2012

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I have been thinking about it for a few days, and it's becoming more and more apparent to me: how many lies it takes to build a relationship. Be it big lies, small lies, white lies or half truths. We like hearing things we want to hear. So we tell, and are being told, accordingly.

Tonight I realized how sometimes, truth works better.


I love talking to you, and I love being able to talk to you. I love it even more that you are willing to listen and talk to me. I love that embarrassed smile on your face when I point out something you didn't realize about yourself, or when I leave you tongue-tied because you have nothing to use against my argument (I also actually quite like the idea of winning in the most childish sense of the phrase). I love how you try to reassure me whenever I get all insecure, which is honestly pretty damn often.

Ever since you came back I know I have been letting it all out on you. I have been difficult to handle, moody and unpredictable. Bringing up the past, making a mountain out of a molehill, blowing up at the slightest thing. I am so afraid to be let down again so I get all pissed off and angry because I don't want to appear soft and vulnerable.

But you never stop trying, even though it must be hard on you too.

And you love me, even at my most unlovable.

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