One year. 365 days.
365 days since I first laid eyes on you. You were silent; you didn't say much as you walked into my dirty room. You didn't even introduce yourself. You didn't need to. When I saw you, I knew. I wanted that cute boy with the handsome smirk to be mine, all mine.
You swept me off my feet. You had me mesmerized. We clicked instantly, yet we took it slow, or so we thought. We fell hard and fast. I had finally found love once again, and I was fully consumed.
We waited two months to make it official; it felt like the longest two months ever. And after only a week of dating, it felt like the worst week ever.
Five days into dating and something was already my fault. I drove fours hours to see you but because you were too busy with your friends, it was my fault you didn't get to see me. The war, the fighting, and the mental anguish were only just beginning.
If only I knew then, what I know now.
I was in love. And when you're in love, there's no such thing as red flags. Sure, I didn't like a lot of the ways you treated me, but I still tried to change what I could to make it better for you. I loved you. I wanted to be what you wanted. You loved me.... right?
No, you didn't love me. That's not love. If only I knew then what I know now.
365 days later.
I'm laying in bed, holding the hand of a man as he kisses my forehead.
A man who doesn't tell me I can't hang out with my guy friends, but encourages that I do. A man who knows that having time alone, without all our friends around, is important in a relationship, and that alone time doesn't have to consist of sex. A man who doesn't respond once a day and then blames me for the disconnect.
A man who doesn't find fault in me for things that aren't my fault.
Exactly one year later, and I wish that day, 365 days ago, never would have happen.