“I could really see myself falling for you.”
Fingers intertwined, a kiss, and a backseat confession later— I never thought I’d find myself here.
Because I’m Ella, the writer. I’m an open book to a certain degree. A professional at revealing only the parts of myself I am ready for people to see. Handling the relationships I do and don’t comprehend by packaging them online the best way I can. Tie the bow, click publish— what can I say?
I’m Ella, the one who’s never been in love before.
A gold medalist in the hot, heavy, and empty feelings of infatuation. Riding the wave of unanswered questions in a sea of almost lovers and uncertainties. The almost lovers and could be’s of my past who reminded me how to stand up for myself. The people who made me feel like I wasn’t enough, or simply, the ones it just wasn’t supposed to work out with.
But then there was him, the one who’s giving me the answers to why it hasn’t worked with anyone else.
He’s a sense of familiarity in completely unknown territory.
It’s the way my sister confides in him. How he made my dad laugh. It’s the way I laid in his arms as he traced the lines in the palm of my hand, the creases and parts of myself I never once tried to understand.
I’ve never felt so vulnerable before.
He’s the first guy I’ve ever let stay the night at my place filled with family photos, memories, and the world I’ve created for myself. Until him, everyone else was left on other side of the door. The door he was unknowingly holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand behind.
I’m Ella, scared beyond belief. Scared that the moment I really let my walls down and expose myself for everything I am, the less digestible and unapologetic parts of me that I can never take back— he’ll see me for all that I am and change his mind.
It’s silly but I can’t help it; I’m absolutely terrified of getting hurt.
Before him, my logic had always been how no one can hurt you just as long as you never give them the opportunity to.
But he’s already met my family, he knows the way my voice sounds in the morning, and all of the other aspects of myself I could never change even if I tried.
I can’t say I’ve given anyone else the chance to get this far. Before him, I was skirting around others with this blasé image of myself that I assumed would not only protect me but was maybe the only version of myself that could be loved. But how can I expect to feel anything beyond the infatuations I know by heart, if all I have to offer is just that, an infatuated version of myself?
So what if this crashes and burns? Maybe if I let myself fuel the fire at least for a little bit, I’ll finally know what comes after the sparks— something I’ve never really allowed myself to feel until now.
Yeah, I could get hurt, but maybe I’m already hurting myself by always assuming the worst.
Fingers intertwined, a kiss, and a backseat confession I finally said.