--Allen--
Things with Oliver have been surprisingly... Easy.
For my first real relationship, I expected there to have been a shit ton of fights and stupid drama and people trying to separate us because they are jealous of our happiness and for his brother to try and kill me because he is jealous of the connection we have because he is actually Oliver's second cousin that his mother stole from the crib and raised as a replacement for the baby she lost while on a trip to Uruguay in 2002 and has never truly felt like family to him.
But, as I quickly discovered, life is not in fact a Spanish soap opera (that I totally don't ever watch on my local Spanish cable network ever Saturday morning at 9 am because they're fucking dumb and I totally hate trashy television).
I'm not gonna lie, I am a bit disappointed about that, but you know.
Shit happens.
And I'm glad Oliver happened.
But he's not shit, wait, I mean that sometimes things just happen to happen to you and they-...
No that's sounds gay, let me think.
Um.
Let me rephrase this and try to be less fucking weird and go off on unrelated tangents.
When we first got together, I'll be honest, I didn't expect myself to last this long. Out of all of my faults, my many many, many faults, my worst is that I am a coward.
I run.
The moment I smell some shit that seems like I could lose it, even the slightest whiff, I will run. Losing for me means getting hurt. Means being the one on the bottom, it means being the one that people look at and feel bad for because of whatever happened.
And if there is even the slightest chance of me losing, I will fucking run like my life is on the line.
And with Oliver, there was a huge chance of that.
Such a huge chance of getting hurt with him, because I care about him so much; He's my entire world, tbfh. (That sounds pretty gay, but that's because it is.) And I assumed, in the beginning, that we wouldn't least long because I felt such a need to run from that chance.
But in this case, the chance I had for him, was worth more than anything. He was a chance. A gamble, a high-stakes game of poker I just happened to win. He was so, so worth the risk. And my only regret is that I didn't take my chance on him sooner, the very first day. To somehow scoop him up and my arms and kiss him and tell him the thing I knew from the first moment I first saw him, the second he walked into the class all those months ago.
"I love you."
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