I remember you when we met. Talk, dark, and handsome to be sure. But also shy. Brooding. Kinda emo. Mysterious.
You were also unsure of yourself — without much of a reason to be. Because you were one of the most capable people I’ve ever met. You still are. But I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes (Dunning-Kruger and all). The folks with the talent and the folks with the confidence are usually different people.
Anyway, that insecure man that I met 10 years ago bears little resemblance to the person you are now.
And this present you has little in common with the man you were five years ago, the midpoint.
Every so often, you change. Those dynamics can be imperceptible at the time, but after a while, those tiny incremental changes add up and become appreciable. Massive shifts occur in aggregate — only detectable in hindsight. But impossible to ignore then.
I feel like I’ve loved countless different versions of you over the years. I’d say that these different selves pass me by like phases of the moon – but that’s not quite right, is it? Because the moon’s phases always repeat, and yours rarely do.
Look, I’m not sure who you’ll become next. But I’m excited to find out.
Because you haven’t been one lover to me, but many. And it’s been incredibly beautiful to watch.