Sorry, Your Breaking Up

So here it goes.

Sam and I.. we took a break. Our relationship had lost some of the shine, and while all relationships are bound to do that at some point or another, it was all just.. 'off'' enough for me to get stupid and go "Hey, something's wrong, let's take a break, let it work itself out."

It has been two days.. and every new hour that passes makes me think just a little bit harder.. Is this really it? Is this where it ends? Is this the break that gets turned into a break-up?

Here's where you ask, "Well, Nessa, is that what you want? Do you want to break up with Sam?"

Obvious answer: No.

More intricate and yet still obvious answer: No. I'm in love with him.

The idiotic and furry (and still obvious) answer: I think I've found the guy that I could be crazy about for the next fifty years, and still get a stupid grin on my face when I wake up and see him snoring with his mouth half open, drooling on a pillow. He's made me happier than I can ever remember, and while our relationship isn't a Disney fairytale... God. What am I doing...?.. It has still been..the absolute best... one year.. seven months.. and nine days I've ever spent with anyone.

Love makes thismuchsense. Exactly. None at all. It's deranged, and stupid, and pointless, and drives you to do ridiculous and retarded things in the name of it. You cry over it, you cry for it, you cry with it, you cry without it, you cry when you see it, you cry when you can't find it, you cry when you lose it, you cry when you get it back.

Summary: I have cried more in the past week than I have in the last couple months.

I promise this doesn't have anything to do with the excessive amount of chic flicks that I have been watching at purposefully inopportune times.

And that, children, is what we call a lie.

I.

Me.

That person over there with the brown hair.

She's really confused and lost right now.

She doesn't know who she is, and she doesn't know who she wants to be. She did.. not to long ago, she really did. Or thought she did anyway.

He said, take all the time you need. I understand. I get it. I love you. Take all the time you need. Well, baby, what if you get tired of waiting? What if you don't to anymore? You promised.. you PROMISED ME, then when I was ready, you'd be there. You did. You said it.

You never break your promises to me. Especially if you pinky swear. Probably should have made you do that.. Oh well, too late now, I'm putting you through enough as it is.

He wrote me a letter. I've read it at least four times so far. Just holding it makes me feel better. Silly of me really. I'm such a nostalgic pack-rat.

I can promise you, I'll find the damn thing in a closet sometime when I'm thirty-seven and have two or three kids of my own and go "Oh my God! I still have this!" Then do one of two things.

Go find Sam and giggle about it, because stuff worked out or..

... I don't cope very well.

I have a lot of stuff to work on, inside and out. Time is going to take it's sweet own, and slowly grind over every hour that I have to spend fixing myself so I can be with the perfect guy, even if it's for just another month, or another year, or maybe a couple.. or for a good long time.

He's worth it though.

Dammit, I've never met a guy more worth it.

Samuel Tooley, your a pain in the ass, and I'm in love with you.

Romantic of me, I know.

Pay close attention the the middle part.

And the last part.

There are endless amounts of books, movies, and songs written and created for the very purpose of defining love in a thousand, million, billion ways.

It makes the world go 'round.

Silly, really. God gave us a brain, but at the end of the day, it's never the last thing we think with.

Goodnight.

-Nessa-