above us in time.

say you knew this person, right, and they said some things that they’re not too proud of, and you said some things you’re not proud of - and you both apologized but they’re not sure how many apologies it’ll take to make everything okay. say that they cried in front of you and you heard them crying and even though you were so hurt and mad at them, you knew, somewhere deep down, that they were trying their best. and maybe they’re not the greatest communicators or the most experienced lovers but maybe they really love you, this raw kind of real love that makes them stay no matter how many times you push them away or make them gasp for air or tell them how they’re breaking your heart, say they kept coming back no matter what, swallowing their pride like some pill popping addict because if anything’s worth looking like an idiot over, it’s you. and say maybe that’s enough to get over the way the anger in their voice made you shake. the fact that they’re still there, sitting there, waiting for you to come home while their afternoon fades into night, still waiting, just waiting, say that’s enough to understand that they didn’t mean to hurt you, that sometimes their humanity slips through the cracks and that angel turns into a boy - but they’re trying their hardest. and all you can ever ask is for them to try, and they will, every time, because for some reason, they’ve taken you in, enclosed their heart around you and made you this aching, infinite, painfully wonderful, mind-shattering part of them. and say that it was okay. say you’d still marry a jerk over a pansy in every lifetime. and say it was this one jerk, this one beautiful jerk-angel-boy who’ll probably laugh at the corniness of this letter but remember it for years to come, say it was him who you wanted to tell: don’t worry. i love you. marry me.