There are a lot of things that you should know about me.
My mind is a dangerous place–it is dark and messed up. I might be reluctant to let you in because even I would get lost in my thoughts of drowning in a sea of blood, of sinking my teeth into the decay of my mortality, and of all of the monsters I trade my secrets with at night.
My heart is still something unknown and something I have yet to own. It breaks every time it beats and anchors my body to the ground. It is shameful and worships metaphors and similes. Desire seeps out of my skin and I use it to set myself on fire on the darkest of dawns.
My body is a constellation of scars and bruises. It is an immense space full of clandestine ramblings, a dusty box filled with unsent love letters, a map of veins and worn-out skin. I am made of crossed fingers, 11:11 wishes, false hopes. I am stitched by dilemmas, fears, insecurity and depression and there will be times that you won’t be able to understand me. I have the tendency to be very clingy and sometimes, insensitive.
There will be times that I will push you to the verge of giving up but please, don’t tolerate me. Don’t whisper prayers of your love for me. Do not ever try to worship me. And most of all, do not ever try to save me.
Because I don’t need to be saved.
I won’t need one. I am not that damsel in distress who cries and wait for her prince to swoop in and save her. I’m not going to be bruised nor damaged. Nor going to need any kind of repairing.
If I ever find myself deciding to love you, it’s going to be because I am complete enough for it. It’s going to be because I’m prepared to capitulate, carrying the knowledge with me that I won’t let any piece of me to be a patch of yours and vice versa. It’s going to be because we already are better for one another. It’s going to be because I am confident in my own skin that I won’t need any saving, I am confident in my own self to have faith in love even when everybody else is trying to make change of that faith.