I am not the girl you built in your head when you were too busy falling in love with the idea of love. I am not the inverse of your ex-girlfriend, not the complete opposite of the last woman who took your heart and reduced it to ashes. If you’re hiding from pain then I can’t promise to not stir up old traumas or revive the ghosts you always thought no longer existed. Before any of us can even step outside the shores of safety and while the slate is still clean, I want to be straight with you. I am not going to make you happy all the time.
Because the truth is: I’m probably not even going to like you all the time.
I am not going to save you or stitch you together or suddenly make you complete. Let me put all of this out there already. Believe it or not, I’m waving my honesty like a flag because I respect you. Because I’ve seen friends and brothers-from-another-mother become schmucks crushed by the hand of she wasn’t who I thought she was. Their hearts, bruised from the sudden deflation, have given me the resolve to abide by a different kind script, to come clean as early as now.
Because I think, at the very least, that you deserve to be saved from the illusion.
I am not your dream girl.