I was expecting to love holding hands and kissing and preparing meals together. I was expecting to agonize over wedding details, wanting it to be just perfect, and then feel a little thrill of fear at the huge commitment. I was expecting to smile every morning when I woke up next to him. I was expecting that we'd talk excitedly about the future and share our dreams that now include each other.

I wasn't expecting how deep it goes.

I wasn't expecting that I'd feel a need, a yearning, for him. I wasn't expecting that, while watching people kiss in a movie, I'd long for his lips pressed against mine. I wasn't expecting that this would be the easiest decision for me to make, a firm, solid pillar of stone knowing that he is mine and I am his no little thrill of fear could make me question. I wasn't expecting to feel so hurt, so deeply hurt, and still want to be with him, still curl up beside him for comfort. I wasn't expecting to feel his pain as my own, sharp, cutting pain, even when I'm the one who inflicted it. I wasn't expecting that I could learn to depend on someone else so quickly and so entirely. I wasn't expecting the way the future could be so unseen and uncertain and that I'd be so willing to take steps forward into it because I'm not alone.

I wasn't expecting that I would look at this man sleeping beside me in wonder that God loves me this much, that this is how he compares himself to us

and my breath is knocked out of me

and all I can say is


thankyou.