Forever Yours

Chapter 1: The Complexities of Love

He was mine. All mine to have and to hold until the very end of time. My beautiful fiancé, the lover of my pathetic life. My soulmate, my cornerstone, my diamond in the rough. I love him, every ounce of his being. His hair, his eyes, his chiseled jawline, his skin, his flesh, his blood, his bone.
I want to tear him apart, to enter his brain, just to understand how a man so perfect could love someone like me.
Flaws and all, he held me close in his arms each night as we slept. I love him with all my heart and soul, though I feel I can never measure up to him. I guess some things are never meant to be even or equal, we are simply two halves attempting to make a whole out of each other's nothingness. Compiling our shared pasts into one great bond. A bond never to be severed though conflicts arise, through thick and thin, we will be as one. Love is immortal. Love knows no bounds. Love is the only constant in an ever changing world. He is my love, and all mine.

~

The summer sun peeks through the windows of our apartment. I stretch as I bask in the warmth of the suns bright rays. My fiancé is on the other side of the bed, and I dare not wake him. His breathing is constant, steady, slow..mesmerizing. I lie back down simply to listen to the way he breathes. He is asleep and probably dreaming a sweet dream, how I hope it is a sweet dream. Laying next to him, my mind wanders. I contemplate each individual poster hanging on our bedroom wall.

Weezer. Our first concert together and this poster was limited edition, of course he had to buy it. I laugh a little remembering just how much the rather small piece of paper cost.

Blink-182. In truth, I hated the band. The music was garbage, the singers sounded annoying to me. But, he loved it so I listened and tolerated the wall art.

The final poster on the wall adorned the lovely face of Andrew Garfield. The Amazing Spider-man, my favorite film, was of course the first poster I bought for our little apartment. He always teased me for my girlish crush on Andrew Garfield, and I always told him that he was just jealous he didn't look as hot.

I smile gently as I think of all the memories in this room and how each led us to this very moment. The drawers are packed with love letters written to each other in our teens, scrap pages of doodles and drawings, and every single picture we had taken together was printed in a polaroid and hung on the wall.

I never believed in soulmates, but looking around at this room one can only call this divine leading. How else could two people so different end up so close?

I look back at my fiancé, and admire his golden blonde hair and soft face. He had it so easy, while I never did. When he was taken on family trips, I was locked in my bedroom or cleaning up the alcohol stains left behind by my drunken parents. We tried our best to leave the past behind us when we bought this place. Our own apartment, which we would fill with happy memories I never had as a child.

It's true, we were polar opposites. Somehow though, the stars had chosen us. Or so I firmly believed, we had been destined since the dawns of time. I for him, and he for me. The two of us, together forever and always, passing through each universe, waiting until the blessed day we would finally meet.

Awaking from my trance of thought, I finally sit up. Quietly I get out of bed and wander my way into our kitchen.
The sun had already reached this room, as it was the farthest facing room in the place. The area was lit up with natural light and I enjoyed every minute of the glow of warmth that seemed to wrap around me. Life is truly perfect.

The sink. I need to wash my hands and fix some food. I make my way to the sink, and while washing, I take time to re-read the recipes taped to the cupboard above.

The first, and most important as it is highlighted in purple marker, is his fathers mac and cheese recipe. Not only was this the first meal I ever had with his family, but he always raved that one day we would have a home together and I would bake even better mac and cheese than his father. It was a horrible effort though, as I am not a cook. Far from a cook, in fact, the last time I attempted the dish, I set off all the smoke alarms. It would be perfected though, one day he would have the "better than dads" mac and cheese he dreamed of.