A Love Letter

Dear Man,

“Why do I love you this much?”

Ever since I met you, this is a question I’ve thought to myself over and over again. I can recall the moment when my mind acknowledged it. You flicked my ear and gave me your mischievous smile, and I rolled my eyes and feigned annoyance. I said out loud: “I hate you.” I thought to myself: “I love him.” Then, I was momentarily frozen. I’ve been caught in that feeling ever since. 7 months later.

My heart loved you before my mind did. As soon as I realized it, I became willingly trapped in a vortex of emotional bliss.

I’ll try to give you a glimpse of what this love feels like for me. Your needs are more important than my own. I would rather you smile than me smile, for, undoubtedly, your smile will make me smile. There is no task too daunting or no wish too complex for me to fulfill for you. I love doing things for you. The only thing that makes me happier than seeing you smile is knowing that I am the reason for it.  Your eyes are large and deep—full of love, anguish and wisdom. Though, I must admit, your heart is my favorite part. You love people deeply and passionately. You care about your family with a fierce devotion unlike anything I’ve witnessed before. Merely thinking that your mom is experiencing discomfort is enough to make you visibly suffer. You’re incredibly empathetic and I love you so much for that. I never thought I would meet anyone who felt other people’s pain as explicitly as I do.

Yes, you have a temper. Yes, you can be irrational. Yes, you yell when you’re angry. But, you’re a human and I love every part of you. Even the dark parts—all they do is make your good qualities better.

You love soccer. You love the outdoors. You love children. You are generous. You are kind. You believe in God and his last messenger. You believe in the day of judgement, and you are actively trying to be a better person. As you always say, there is always room for improvement.

You’re my other half, Man. You’re the person I’ve been searching for.

I write this letter with shame clouding my mind. I feel ashamed of my actions on Thursday night. After we had such a perfect evening, I felt an incomparable moment of happiness. I kept thinking to myself that all I wanted was this forever. I wanted you and me to have regular nights of exercise and family dinners forever. And that’s when my fear took over.

I let the fear of losing you consume me. When I started crying and admitting how afraid I was to lose you, I subconsciously sought comfort and reassurance. Just like how you told me on Wednesday that you needed me to just say, “Okay, habibi,” when you state your concerns. All I needed was for you to remind me that we would get married, and say, “I love you. We will get married. We have a timeline. It will happen before we move in.”  When you say things like, “I am just not ready yet,” it triggers me to cry more because it makes my irrational fears seem possible. I think: “What if he’s never ready? What if he decides he doesn’t want this?” When you say things like, “I have a checklist,” I wonder, “Will I ever be good enough?” Your words leave huge impressions on me. They haunt me when I go about my day. I think about them long after you tell me, “Everything will be okay… I just need time,” because you precede that with, “You need to be more modest first.” In my mind, they are contradictory sentiments.

… (Parts Omitted)

We are at a crossroads. I have accepted that I have to wait for you, and you must accept me for who I am. If you are willing to do that, I whole-heartedly believe that we have something special. We are so lucky. But, it can only be a reality if we both commit to compromise. If you choose otherwise, I will always pray for your father and you will forever be in my heart.




Leave a Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s