How many times have you heard that?
I can’t recall how many times someone has said this to me.. or for that matter, I have said it to someone.
It’s ironic, almost, the amount of trust that we can put into someone so quickly… only to have them rip the carpet from underneath us. We expose our hearts, give up our most vulnerable parts, and yet, we still hurt at the end of the day.
Our hearts break wide open.
And still we run back.
Over and over.
There have been so many moments, moments where I know the hurt is coming. The conversations deplete, the smiles are erased, the depth is gone. But yet, the promise was still there, nothing’s going to hurt you.
Nothing but you.
Nothing but me.
And then I remember the stars, the constellations that surround us in the night sky. How at one point in time, they didn’t even exist together in the same part of the sky. How they were alone, waiting for another to come, only to have it leave again.
And then I remember how the sun and the moon can’t shine their brightest with the other around.
And then I remember the ocean waves, kissing the shoreline.
And then I remember you.
And then I remember me.
And then I remember us.
Again, I look back to the stars, they are fading fast. “I need to talk,” I shout to the darkness. They twinkle in response, and I know they are listening. The stories behind the constellations are based on myth, myths that some believe in so strongly.
There’s a tale about Vega and Altair, in one version of the events (the only one in which is important in this version of my story) the girl’s family are immortal Gods, she falls in love with a mortal and they are displeased. Her parents separate them, leaving them miles apart. The twist? They leave a river of stars, we know it as the Milky Way, between them allowing the two lovers, one night per year, to be together.
“Vega,” I shout into the void, waiting for her twinkle to respond, “how do you do it? How does it not break you not getting to see the very person that makes your heart so damn happy?”
And I wait.
And I wait.
And I wait.
And suddenly, it hits me.
The fear that must live in the pit of her stomach, the one that tells her they will never see one another again. But then, there is that flutter of the butterfly’s wings, the one that brings them closer.
And then, it’s simple.
“Altair,” I look to him, “it takes a great love to be able to do what you two do, year after year. Never knowing when that time will come. Patiently waiting to hold one another again.”
Because every great love story comes with a little bit of hurt.
And you, ultimately, get to choose who hurts you.
And I would still choose you.
Because our journey is one I am willing to sacrifice everything for.
Because our journey makes me feel alive.
Because our journey is so messy but beautiful at the same time.
Because our journey is ours.
And then the Summer breeze blows my hair into my eyes.
And I’m reminded that you are almost here.
And I can’t wait to see you.
It’s been too long.
Nothing’s going to hurt you.
Nothing except you.
Nothing except me.