It’s not the job he has, making him seem more put together to foreigners. It’s not his confidence that he has in himself, sometimes making him sound more arrogant than anything else. It’s not his knowledge in the field I wish to venture into; sometimes I don’t understand half the things he’s saying. And it’s definitely not his height, his race or ethnicity, his family’s inheritances or anything like that.
It’s the compassion I see in his eyes when he looks out in the world. It’s the empathy he has for all those around him. It’s the respect he has for me, always wanting to make me feel comfortable in my own skin. It’s the light in his eyes when he talks with passion, melting my heart with every beat. It’s the desire to do great things in this world, from the smallest gestures to the most meaningful milestones. It’s the gentleness and understanding personality when I was at my worst physically and, therefore, mentally. It’s when I can tell he wants to shield me from harm but still expose me to the truths of the world. It’s his willingness to work at a relationship even when it consists of things he isn’t used to or doesn’t understand. It’s the young man he has become.
I don’t have the courage to hope for forever. I honestly don’t have the courage to say we’ll make it through all the tough times. My heart has been through torching flames in hell and barely made it back alive, multiple times. I don’t have the guts to ask him to stick by my side. I can only push myself to hope that he does because, in the moments of silence, his music filling the air, I feel my heart starting to beat again.