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I wish I told the world about us.It was the kind of relationship that started out as friends. Not because we weren’t attracted to eachother, but because we discovered something more valuable. Our personalities clicked like magnets. Wehad at least a year of platonic, meaningful time together. Whether in deep conversations about ourpassions for life, goals and aspirations, faith; or the no-brainer moments of (your) silly and honestlycorny jokes I just couldn’t help but laugh at. Even with my complicated baggage, being with you wasjust so easy and light on my heart. All the cares in the world seemed to evaporate around you, and Iwish the world knew.

I wish I told the world about that chilly February night. It was a Friday, I remember. We were in myfavorite coffee shop when you had spoken about your intentions with me. As you reached for my handthe first time, I felt the tingling sensation of both excitement and fear, which I believe poets havepersonified in butterflies. But they weren’t just in my stomach; they were in every in of my body, everycorner of my mind. I swear, my heart literally beat a little harder, the room got a little colder, but yourhand was all the warmth I needed. That’s when I knew it was genuine. And as much as I triedpostponing the moment in fear that I’ll scare you away, that was the moment I discovered your love.

I wish I told the world how scary it was for me. My mind wasn’t entirely sure how to respond, or if Ieven needed to. But then again, I also didn’t want to ruin the wonderful possibility of genuine happinesswith you because I feared exposing the truth that fateful night. And so I did. I laid it all on the table every tiny, however dark, secret I held that even my best friend doesn’t know I still think about; and allthe little, no matter how petty, insecurities I had about being alone, about being with someone, aboutbeing lost.

I must have wiped that coffee table at least a dozen times as I spoke in trembling strength.

And inch by inch, I felt your emotions retreat. Your eyes were set on me, but your heart was slowlysneaking to hide behind the walls I was building. Every word was a brick delineating the line betweenyou and me. My tears fall and I see your handkerchief wet with the pain I caused. Why? I asked myself,but I knew they were truths that needed to be said, even if I wasn’t ready to speak them, nor you, readyto hear them. My only wish then was that in the middle of my dark past, you find a glimmer of hope forthe future.

I wish I told the world that you did. That you, my dear, in all the scraps and broken pieces of my past,unearthed a chest of beauty. That was the moment I knew your love was relentless. You embracedevery single thing I confessed, and melted all the walls I worked so hard to build. Because that’s whatyou do; because that’s what your love meant.

Your intentions were so pure that no history of mine, noryours, can even begin to scratch the surface of the endless possibilities of our future together.

I wish I told the world the beautiful little things you do for me. After a long days work, you’ll stillagree to give my feet a rub but because you knew I wanted them. Every moment with you had timerunning like a maniac. One moment we’re greeting good morning over your cup of coffee and my cupof tea, and the next, we find ourselves having to say good night again. Hours were just a snap of thefingers; days were a brush of the hair. Time never seemed enough with you.

I wish I told the world about us, and now I can’t. I don’t regret a thing, you told me. And I know youwere telling the truth. The world would call it complicated, but really, that’s just how people describeanything they do not comprehend. They will never understand the adventure we had, and where, how,and why it had brought us here. Right here, right now.But then again, we don’t need the world to validate the truth of what we have of what we had. Andsomehow, that gives me great joy that in a world of thousands of people, we had us. The beauty andindescribable relationship that was, is, and will always be, us.

I wish I told the world.

Now, I can only tell the world how sorry I am for breaking your heart.

Read more: http://thoughtcatalog.com/joyce-guerrero/2016/09/now-i-can-only-tell-the-world-about-how-we-broke/