I am quitting my job before securing a new one. I don't know where my family and I will be living in a month. So many details of my life are up in the air. It's terrifying.
But I'm happy. Deliriously, wonderfully, optimistically fucking JOYFUL. Smiling and dancing and ready to just burst into candy and confetti. There is only one thing that could make a person feel this goddamned amazing.
Love.
Real, honest, once-in-a-lifetime love with THE person. The kind you have absolutely no reservations about. The sort where the trust runs so deep, you have no doubts that they genuinely love you the same. Y'all! It turns out that it actually exists! That's not just movie nonsense or stuff of daydreams. I am really having to reframe this cynical worldview of mine to allow myself to really believe this is even possible.
I've known him for a decade. I've loved him from afar for...a decade. Written silly poetry about him. Daydreamed all the what-if's and if-only's. Watched him love another and ached quietly while I was in a relationship I felt trapped in. He's the one that I knew from the start was my other half. I actually did just know. It really was like fucking lightning. I knew deep down that being with anyone else would just be passing time with a stand-in and not the love that I wanted.
(I know my ex can see this, so I will stop here to say that I'm sorry, Charlie. This can't sound good. But it's honest. And we both moved past to find the real love, so...we cool, right?)
Welp. Guess what? Turns out HE'S ALWAYS LOVED ME BACK! It took awhile, and we had to wait until we were both out of our own relationships, but we finally told each other. He cracked that door open and I bust in like Kool-aid. Now he's agreed to move across this entire country to be with me. In 17.5 days, I will fly to him, and we will do this trek together. Then come back and spend our lives together.
I'll be home. Finally.
