Obviously I can’t write sh*t. I’m terrible with words. Sometimes I’m too hard on myself. I’m complicated. I’m insane. Most people act out, I act in. Violently in. I implode. I self-destruct.
I was halfway though my self-destruction process, my self-confidence gone, my personality plucked to oblivion like Callie Torres’s eyebrows (Callie Torres, from Grey’s Anatomy), my heart in pieces, my life in ruins, me lying dead in one of those ditches pigs crap in – when you found me. Or did I find you?
You knew I was undateable, more undateable than the geeky guy on that TV show, and you chose to not sugar coat and tell me I’d find someone perfect. You insisted I was nice, you were always there when I needed to find my footing again. You are amazing, you who never gave up.
I pushed all your buttons, I p*ssed you off. I invaded your “me time”, and I didn’t let you breathe for months at a stretch, because I was so insecure and lonely, and psychotic and depressed. You didn’t shake me off like one of those bad habits. You held on, thank you.
You let me talk and you were my midnight b*tching partner when I needed to let loose. You were super fun and cute and you let me try out makeup on you, just because. Just because it would make me smile, even though you hated anyone touching your face. You let me braid your hair the way Lilith Moon showed in one of her many YouTube videos, and you looked like a hot mess, and you didn’t care, because I styled your hair and you actually loved it. You never lost your cool, even when I was a bigger b*tch than Blac Chyna, and I can never be grateful enough.
This goes out to you, my sister from another mister, my little Mommy, my partner in crime, my person – S – I hope you stay as amazing and just so you know, I love you. All tenses.