I have always had trouble letting people into my mind. Unfortunately, my mind is a constant web of weird ideas and existential banter that would eventually drive you mad. Fortunately, I keep a lot of it to myself.

But, there are times in life when I know I need to let that down. From expressing myself more often in the work place to letting the few friends I have know how much they mean to me. Yet while I have fallen in love with love, knowing how amazing it feels to have someone talk to you and show you your own beauty, it is still so very difficult for me to translate that over back towards the people in my life.

I know, absolutely know, that Paul finds that part of me to be most challenging. I did not grow up with similar parents who knew what love was. My parents did not have the kind of marriage that people get excited about. Hugging, kissing, and I love yous were rare if not close to nonexistent. It was considered healthy to compete amongst my siblings rather than support each other. And I struggled to learn what it took to have friendships worth fighting for.

I have days where I can sit by myself and ponder. Growing up, my imagination and my ability to think outside of myself — to realize the vastness of existence; the unknown; the finite — was my way of filling the gaps of human interaction. Sometimes, I read. I click from article to article, researching, and formulating opinions just because it’s there. Other times, I let the world come to me. The inhumanity of humanity. The planets and galaxies far, far away that remind us of how temporary and insignificant we are as a whole.

Other days, it’s work. And I get to be one of those lucky people who honestly love work. The never-ending challenges of the never-ending changes to web interaction. The technical issues. The logic behind decisions. Tackling data analysis. Changing inefficient systems. All while working with people who feel the same passion that you do. That help you to grow into a better person — better leader — better thinker.

Many days, I come home late. Many hours are overtime that are not paid. And many times, my shoulders feel heavy; my mind tired from running. But at this stage, I truly do not mind it all. It gives me genuine purpose, and not many people are blessed with that in corporate America. Unfortunately, I forget that Paul doesn’t see the bright side. He doesn’t experience the thrill that I get from work day to day or the new systems we are brainstorming about. Unfortunately, I have failed to realize that at the end of the day, he only sees me when I am tired and ready to sleep. And by then, there is no hope for my mind to lay down as an open book. In writing this blog post, I am coming to realize that by the time I come home, I have already failed him.

So, if you should ever read this, I want to say that I am sorry. With all that I am, I am just completely and wholeheartedly sorry. All you have ever done was try to turn the pages of my book; to somehow insert yourself into my story. I am far from an interesting read. If anything, I am a very complicated and messy first draft. But you have never given up.

Even now, as I type in bed, listening to you dream, you continue to want to hold my hand in your sleep. Even now, your mumbles of I love you are your little battles to get through to me.

But I want you to know that I am trying. Some days, my body aches are just too much. Some days, I have absolutely no energy. Many days, I spend in bed because I have no other way of feeling better. But I want you to know that I am fighting.

I struggle with my feelings. With expression. But I have come to you, vulnerable, and bawling like a child — pouring my entire soul into you. And while those nights were the toughest, I want you to know that I am trying to continue to leave my book open to you. This blog is my feeble attempt at that. This jumbled blog post, with all of its lack of transitions, is my attempt at somehow deconstructing my mind for you.

Sometimes you wonder if I love you. If I even have the energy to reciprocate any sort of emotion. And I do. I do with all that is me. I do. But I am learning. Every day. How to be better. How to love the way that you love.

So although I am slowly letting my guards down for you each and every day, I want you to know that yes. I do love you. I love you even when my mind can’t speak. I love you even when my body cannot crawl out of bed. And I love you even when I feel like I have failed to show you.

This has been and still is one of the toughest battles I have had in life. But please know, that it is, by far, the most important battle I will ever have. And I will never stop fighting.

Last night was one of the most beautiful things I could ever hope to experience. It was heartbreaking, passionate and so very very humbling.

Knowing and realizing we wanted and needed each other’s fragile existences. Wishing that life wasn’t so unfair. But also falling in love with life. Seeing how fortunate I am to love and be loved in every way possible by the one person that I would do absolutely anything for.

Thank you, Paul, for giving me a life worth living. And if it had to end today, I am happiest knowing I got to spend it with you.

Fear: noun – a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined.

I don’t fear many things in life. When I truly think about it, I’ve only feared one thing. And as many men share this same fear, I thought it was nothing extraordinary. This fear of death. Our own death. The point at which we cease to exist; cease to contribute to the world; to think. To be. It is both a real and imagined fear. I imagine I may die today – that very may well not be the case. The reality of it though is that it must eventually happen. That I know will always and forever be real.

But a second, more important fear has somehow taken a hold of me. My man, the only man I have ever fallen in love with, is about to become a firefighter. Never in my life have I been more proud of him – to have such a wonderfully kind heart to willingly save the world and our people.

But he is still a boyfriend. My boyfriend. The grooves and contours of his handsome face have been memorized by my palms. When my fingers trace his perfect eyebrows, I know I belong with him. The way he smiles in his sleep and the gentle gestures of his good morning kisses.

And beyond that – the unforgettable character that is him. The way you can fall in love with the way he carries himself. The uncontrollable, infectious laughter that fills the room when we watch movies together. The lessons of forgiveness, of humility, and of kindness that he continues to teach me each and every single day.

My utmost fear has now become losing him. I will only admit to this once in my blog because if I admitted it every time I felt this way — I would never stop writing. But that… that… has consumed my mind as of late. My own existence is almost trivial if it means a life without him.

I think I can safely say that I have made it through enough of life to know that he is undoubtedly the one I would love to walk to the end of the world with. But he is a good man. A wonderful man. Not many people can be so passionate about wanting a career fighting the dangers of our world and he is absolutely fearless. While I am scared out of my mind, I have never been so excited in my life to support the one man that means the entire universe to me.

My warrior. My lover. My best friend.

I am in love with you.

Stay safe out there.