Because we were struggling. No. it wasn’t that we were struggling. It was me that was struggling. All the time. With fidelity. With understanding and patience. With the sex we had and the love that is supposed to be there after almost two decades of friendship. I was struggling and at times I always felt alone that I was journeying this relationship alone. I talked till I was blue. I talked till I turned red. Till tears came down my face because what I had imagined to be somewhat perfect was difficult as hell for me. I wanted a man who would ravish me. Who would grab me close and kiss me hard. Deep. I needed a man who expressed his every desire of ways to position my delicate body underneath his hands. I wanted to be with a man who not only understood and appreciated the arts but who looked at me and understood me as an art. I struggled. I struggled so much to accept you as the man you are when you openly accepted me for all that I am. I struggled with the understanding of how a man could know all this about me and still I say I chose you. I struggled with allowing myself to just be. And I felt alone in my struggles until one night I just opened my mouth and I spilled everything in a way you could feel me. And you listened. You’re so patient. And I got so mad that you didn’t share the same struggles. All you said was how can I struggle when I know I wanna be with you? Sometimes the certainty would make me panic. And I struggled understanding what I was so scared about. The last night we were together in Jacksonville I prayed for us. You were sleep. I laid on your chest and I prayed that no matter what happens, may we always find the sunshine even when it rains. I prayed for us. Because that’s what you do when you understand your problems are sometimes to great for you to handle alone. Because how solid is a relationship without a spiritual foundation? I am a woman and I think people forget that we struggle too in relationships. And I got a good man and I can’t lose him. So everyday I’m working to be a better woman for him first and for myself. It’s a process. But it’s the first time I ain’t struggling to admit it’s a beautiful process.
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