…who do I love more?

I believe kindness to be one of the most attractive qualities in a person. Partly in because I liken it to compassion, or the “quivering of the heart.” Compassion means being compelled to help alleviate the suffering. Yesterday, I decided to not only practice compassion for others, but to practice it for myself too.

“I just want us both to be happy,” I said.

“That’s the outcome I want too,” he said as he stood in the doorway.

Our eyes locked and our lips met. When we embraced, I held him for an extra moment. I held him longer because I knew I’d be shutting the door and didn’t know when I’d be seeing him again. And I wanted to remember how he felt in my arms.

When M told me he didn’t want me to move in after two years, I felt like he was saying, “You’re not enough and I don’t know when you will be.”

What more could I do to show you I am? I thought of the times I helped him, not always because I wanted to, but because I thought it’d make him happy. I acted compassionate towards him, but neglected some of my own desires. And it’s not his fault for that.

But if two people don’t want the same things, is it worth staying in the same place? Should I stay and risk continuing to feel less than or stagnant only because I love him? Or leave because I long for growth and commitment?

It’s hard.

Fighting to be strong with the belief that what I want matters too.

Willing myself to not eat all of the remaining girl scout cookies.

Trying to wash away the hope that he’ll miss me enough to take some type of action.

Holding myself when I long to be held.

Clinging to the notion that this will serve a greater good – no matter what happens.

Reminding myself of the lessons and the joy to come for the both of us.