Eighth grade field trip. Shakespeare at the Brady. Notes scribbled back and forth on the school bus. Wanna go out? Sure, I guess.
And then what? An epic battle of love and hate. A display of teenage angst/hormones/confusion such as the world had never seen. A piecemeal construction of an unlikely life.
Our story isn’t the stuff of fairy tales. Not even close.
We’ve had a hundred breakups. Most of them were ugly. Heated. Bad.
We’ve had a hundred makeups. Most of them passionate. All of them promising forever. This time.
We’ve had fights. Big fights. Rage-filled. Chemical-fueled. Scary fights. Broken hearts. Broken phones. Broken promises.
We’ve seen other people. Sometimes seriously. Sometimes to make a point. Sometimes because revenge feels good… at least at first.
We’ve lived apart. Far apart. 1500 miles x 4 years. My junior year, we saw each other 12 days. We survived… barely.
We’ve had people doubt us. For good reason. Parents, friends, enemies. Sometimes they were right. Often they just fueled the fire.
To the outsider, we may not seem to fit well.
Bookworm + Bad Ass
Vegetarian + Carnivore
Med-Student + Welder
Pieces + Aquarius
Gypsy + Chicken
Optimist + Pessimist
Haley + Jacob
All signs pointed to failure. Straight up.
And we’ve struggled. We’ve been through things together that no one should have to go through. Tragic things. Painful things.
But we’re making it work.
We’ve built a happy little family. We lead a happy little life. We have a happy little love. It works even when it shouldn’t.
He makes me smile. I make him think. We challenge each other. We both like wine and good music. What more could we possibly need?
Ballad of love and hate. Today, love’s winning… and that’s all that really matters.