And then there was you.

There was her.



She was a child, a sensitive child. A child that inhaled every word, loved a bit too much and needed what was not there to be given. What no one could understand.
 She was a sensitive soul, and she needed to be good. To be comfortable for the ones around her. To make it easy, to fit in. So she shut herself up and locked herself in. In her flaw of being too much, she wrapped herself and hid it away. And baring a tight cloth of shame, she became an embodiment of contradictions, always afraid of never being enough - of forever being too much.



Then there was you.



You, who found what was hidden, as if you had already known what to look for. You, who saw what she thought no one wanted to see. You, who knew exactly how to treat her. You, who came from out of nowhere and loved her like you had known the girl that once had inhaled every word. The girl who had loved a bit too much, who had needed what was not there to be had. And without her knowing, you made it past her previous lifetime. Without her knowing, you carefully found your way through all she had scattered along her path. You gently asked for her hand to rest in yours, as she unwrapped herself. As she reconnected with her shame. And as she unravelled her cloth in tears, you were there to kiss her. You took her in your arms and you carried her. You carried her through all she thought would never be enough, and up above all she had feared would always be too much. And what she had thought was her burden, suddenly became her strength. What had been surrounded by dark, was now her source of light. With the light in your eyes, with the strength of your love, she had finally found her resurrection.



And then there was us.






To my Sam.




Love,


Carolina