ijaazat:

every june you confess your love for me in a different, new way. it’s like a chart with which i can assess how much you’ve grown, how much i’ve grown, and how much more love we have built for us. every june i reject you politely, but don’t let you go. push you off the ledge but hold your hand and pull you in. now you owe me your life. now you think i am the one who taught you how to live again. and now i feel giddy. like a child, i am full of want even though my wants don’t make any sense ultimately. i just want. isn’t that enough? and i want you. that’s not enough. i can’t want you but also not let you have me. but, i don’t want you to have this ruined, half stitched, half broken thing. i want you to have one of those girls: polite, kind, hot, the ones whose photos you send me saying they’re so pretty. the ones who make you put heart eyes emojis at the end of your texts. take them, leave me. please. but you’re stubborn too, my love. so now what? now we’re fucked. we’re stuck on this ledge. catch your breath. it’s still june. and june will come again. and i will push you off again. maybe this time pull me in.