Pretty, lifeless, drunk proclamations are not love. “Maybe,” is not love. Love is respect, and respect doesn’t leave you guessing. Respect doesn’t make you wait up at night, terrified they’ve found someone they like better at a party. Respect doesn’t take back the drunk words they told you with their hands on your thighs. Respect shows up. Respect listens. When he finally decided to show me some decency and leave me, I realized what was possibly the most painful part of it all; The respect I had been starved of had mostly been my own.
