I Hope You Allow Yourself To Fall

So much of my being is wrapped up in him like we've spilled into one another like watercolors blending together to create something new entirely.

By

@jessytai / Instagram
@jessytai / Instagram

I lie in bed for yet another sleepless night. My eyes open to moonlight illuminating the black walnut tree outside my window. The silence was heavy on me making it hard to breathe steady and my chest was caving in under its weight.

Out of some deep darkness that I’ve never voluntarily visited thoughts of losing him waded in slowly, invading my weary mind like a cloud of war expanding and blooming in all directions.

So much of my being is wrapped up in him like we’ve spilled into one another like watercolors blending together to create something new entirely.

Something grand. Something deeper than I ever thought possible.

I have my own thoughts, my own dreams but the way I experience this life is no longer just my own. My independence has faded away slowly, so slow that I never noticed its parting. Becoming aware of this in days of the past would have brought about a fight in me, a struggle to regain my own experience, to regain my independence.

But not today, not now.

Having so much to lose, to care so deeply, to feel part of someone else’s being on an emotional and cosmic level is surreal.

I no longer have to go at this alone.

The bad days, the worries — I now have someone who can help carry the load, to lift me up when I’m feeling down.

The accomplishments, the dreams, the little things — I have found someone who I can whole heartedly share this sometimes painful, but mostly beautiful fleeting life with.

This new found truth that revealed itself through fear and loss in the darkness of my room has left me feeling more content than I have ever felt.

I hope you find this someone in your life. And I hope when you do that you notice it. You allow it.

Lean in. Don’t fight it. Thought Catalog Logo Mark


About the author

Jessy Easton

If my nose isn’t in a book I’m either working on my memoir or taking photographs.