You didn’t have to. At 1am, when I felt my chest tighten and my head spin whilst my mind began to race and my lungs felt as though they were desperately reaching for air, you didn’t have to sit up with me and wait with every inch of patience for it to pass. Knowing exactly what to say, holding me with reassurance running through your fingertips as you brushed my hair off of my face. Each breath became slower, my heart was calm, my muscles relaxed, my head fell calmly onto your shoulders and you kissed me. We went to sleep and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. At 9pm, when I was frantically searching through the pages of my diary, trying to figure out how we’re going to make the time for each other, worrying that work will take over the time we have. You knew. You knew that I was worried because I wanted to organise everything; I wanted structure. I always have plans on a Tuesday. ‘Every Tuesday is date night’, you said. I was relieved, I was excited, I had no reason to worry that life would get in the way and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. At 7am, when crystal clear tears rolled slowly down my cheek as I sat at the edge of the bed. And again, at 8:20am, when I came out of the doctor’s room and couldn’t hold my composure. The words left your mouth as though you’d practiced them a thousand times in front of the mirror. You held my hand a lot that morning, rubbing your thumb up and down because you cared. You liked showing me that you were there. It was one of the scariest, most overwhelming mornings of my life, but you were there so I got through it and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. At 11pm, we sat. I rehearsed the words over and over in my head, thinking of a way to release them in a way that made them sound less terrifying. I told you everything. I told you of the words I’d been to scared to acknowledge ever even existed, expecting the worst, expecting concern, expecting to lose hold of everything that I had; but you understood. You were able to relate. You made me feel normal and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. At 4am, we were drunk in a hotel room. I had butterflies in my stomach. I was preparing to lose you before I even had you. I shared my mind with you. You smiled, even laughed a little – I felt the world lift from my shoulders. The exact moment that my heart knew you were different, was right then. You were mature. You demonstrated the perfect display of compassion, warmth and tender-heartedness. I changed into my jarmies, you fell asleep first, I lay my head onto the pillow and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. It was coming up to 11pm. You were home before me. Something had happened and I called you in a panic, to which you said ‘I’ll sort it out, just come home and look at the floor’. I opened the door, struggling to get the key out and closed it again. I followed your notes through to the living room, to the sound of our song, to the sight of one of my favourite movies ready to play and a sofa made up for a cosy night in. My eyes scanned the room, landing on the door to the kitchen, to which I pulled on the handle and ran straight towards you. I was safe and I was ok.
You didn’t have to. When you discovered my passion, what I love, you began to enjoy it with me. When we got home late and I hadn’t eaten, you made me some crumpets – the special way, so that the butter melts all the way through. When I asked you, after speaking for less than a week, to come to a Mallory Knox gig in Birmingham with me, you could have said no. When you made me a present to keep me going to the end of my course. When you told me in the car on the way home from Nottingham that you thought I was beautiful. When you bought me nuggets when I was sad because you knew already that it would cheer me up. When you reassured me that I’d done nothing wrong when I lost trust in myself. When you told me you could relate to the way that I was feeling. When you stuck by me, through some of the hardest times I’ve ever had to face; and promised that you always will.When you tell me not to worry, I am ok.
You didn’t have to do any of those things. I didn’t expect anybody to ever do any of those things; but you did…to which I am grateful and I am appreciative and I am besotted and I am smitten. A year ago, or 2 years ago, I never believed in finding a ‘person’. I was adamant that it was the kind of thing you’d see in a movie on Netflix and that would be it’s full extent. You’ve allowed me to feel so much in such a short space of time, something which I never imagined would happen to me. You are supportive. You are kind. You are selfless. You are inspiring. You are my person.
I didn’t have to write this, but I did. You didn’t have to love me, but you do. I never thought I’d have my happy ending, but I will and for that, I thank you.