Struggle

I lived my life by the daily affirmation that it was my job to make you happy because you made me happy. I lived my life in a daily struggle, and I never saw it. Had I looked at our relationship with the mindset of an outsider, I would have seen it. I would have seen that struggle. The struggle between who I was trying to be for you, and who I desperately wanted to be for myself. I was so consumed by who I "should" be. Every criticism, every little nitpick, everything really sunk into me. And because I loved you how you were, I strove to make myself the person you could really love, and not the one you loved because of the confidence you had in yourself to mold me. When I think back to the first time you told me you loved me, I realize that was the time when I began to struggle.

We were in my bedroom, laying in the light of the sunset. I will never forget the day because I was laying there with you, warm from your touch as well as the orange light. I can remember all the details. I was barely dressed, wearing a tank top and flimsy silk pajama shorts, and as a result of our rolling around on the sheets, you had on your undershirt and boxers. We were side by side, facing one another. You were looking into me. I was staring at your lips. I touched them with one finger, barely. I moved my face into yours, sighing, kissing you just barely. Your arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me close. I felt the outline of your body on my own. I wanted more than we had ever shared before. So did you.
"Rhian, I, I love you." you whispered. I stopped breathing.
"Say something Rhi. I mean it, I really do, I love you."
"I love you too Bradley." I said, taking a leap.
And then I was falling.
You smiled, you ran your hand through my hair and over my ear and you kissed me. It felt like no kiss we'd ever shared before. I didn't feel it then, but it was a sign that everything was going to change. That evening, in that sunset, you saw all of me, and I saw all of you. You moved inside of me, you changed me, you loved me and showed me things. We learned what making love meant.
That was the only time you loved me. The first and last time you would love me. Every other time that you touched my body, kissed my skin and whispered my name, it was simply your wish that tomorrow when we woke up, I would be less of the girl that had, unknowingly to me, escaped the night before.