He loves me like he's never going to let go.
I am not used to this.
His arms cradle my fragile body as though he wishes harm to never touch my sensitive skin.
I am not used to this.
He corrects me when I am wrong, and he admits that he, too, is not perfect; even though in my eyes, he is.
I am not used to this.
He is kind, and strong, and he says all the right things.
I am not used to this.
He knows how to heal me and make me a better person without even trying.
I am not used to this.
He is capable of loving all my pain away.
I am not used to this.
I love him like I'll never let go, and I never will.
Despite the painful past I have with men, his love is something I will quickly learn to get used to.
About the Creator
Allison Rasp
Writing is a passion of mine, mainly for the stress relieving aspects of it. I created this profile because my journal was running out of spaceš I would love for other people to indulge in my pieces.
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Worrier to Warrior
As a child, nothing made me want to grow up more than the negative thoughts that constantly tormented my mind. I have always been known as quite the worrier by my entire family. My parents discovered my high levels of anxiety from a very young age. This became fairly apparent when I used to scream and cry almost every day before getting on the bus, practically making myself sick. My blatant terror of human interaction became clear when my excited mother and father asked if I wanted to go to Disney World and my response was, āDefinitely not. There are too many people, and I could die on those rides!ā There are no words to describe how low my parentsā jaws dropped when they heard that response come out of their Disney Princess-obsessed nine-year-oldās mouth. Little to their surprise, this constant feeling of anxiety that I had always experienced never once wavered as I grew older. Even as a middle school student, I despised waking up during the week because it meant that I had to do the unthinkable: socialize. The day I decided to step out of my comfort zone to be a real teenager was the day that I would come to regret for the rest of my life.
By Allison Rasp8 years ago in Psyche
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