Thank God you still like me, after all these years where we’ve tried as hard as we could not to like each other. I can’t count how many times I’ve blocked your number, in an attempt to keep you (and disappointment) at bay. So thank God you still like me, even after all those times you saw your messages weren’t being delivered; thank God you still like me, even when I never replied. Thank God you still like me, despite all the hateful things I’ve said to you, accusing you of indifference and inconsistency, and utter disregard for my feelings. Sometimes the things I said were valid, but other times they were a projection of all the fear and the hurt that still lives inside my old wounds. Thank God you still like me, even though we’ve been apart most of the time, lost in our own inner worlds of fantasy and isolation and a fortress’ worth of self-protection. Thank God you still like me long enough to remind me that love does exist for someone like me, someone so obviously hopeless and failed at the art of human relationships. Without you, I might never know what it feels like to love another person by choice, even when that person has shown me over and over again that he will never conform to my ideas about love. So let’s hold onto whatever version of love that feels tolerable, and pray to God that it grows and blooms and saves us both from the kind life we used to live, before we knew what love could do for people like us. ❤️‍🔥—Y.B.D.