I know I said ďI love you,Ē and itís still true, but Iím seriously wishing I could take it back,
I donít love the way you do.
Romantic love is a foreign concept dropped down to earth in stardust.
While it makes some people shimmer it just makes me sneeze.
Romantic love is different for everyone.
For my mom, love is reliability, for family, home and good laughs
For my dad it is someone he can trust and bug and hold.
For my brother is it watching the same cartoons and having good boobs.
For my sister it is someone who can survive without everything she takes away.
For you, I think love is forever.
Love is one and only and til death do us part and I canít breathe without you.
But for me, romantic love is just any other platonic love that I happen to want to fuck,
I donít want to say that all my relationships are "friends with benefits" because I can do monogamy if you want, but I donít know how to feel for you the way you want me to.
Weíve had a thousand conversations and I try to explain how my love just doesnít seem to look like yours.
Talking about what love is is like trying to describe a single color.
How will I ever know if my eyes look at the sky and see the exact same shade of blue that yours do?
Take all the pictures you want, but I can only see through my eyes, weíll never know if weíre seeing the same thing.
I love you, but I love you like a springtime morning or a dragonfly wing.
You love like the stars and stripes and tattoo ink.
Just because I say those three words does not give you an excuse to wipe away the thousands I asked you to read about aromanticism.
Just because I can live without you doesnít mean I love you any less than I possibly can, but that is it for me.
I donít know what else I can give you. I donít know if I have what you want.
I feel like Iím in a stick up, but my pockets were empty before you came in the door.
I feel like youíre a bank robber asking me to open my vaults but this body is a hospital and my heart is a library, I have nothing to steal, I donít have what youíre looking for.
I love you.
But I canít love you the way you want me to.
It doesnít make it not true.
But it makes me wish that Iíd never said it.