Every Draft Of Me

Thank you for loving me through every version I've ever been.

Not just the version who shows up steady and put-together for the rest of the world — the one who has her answers ready, who laughs easily, who seems like she has it figured out. That version is easy to love. Anyone could love that one.

I mean the other versions too. The ones I don't hand out freely. The one who wakes up at 3 a.m. with a fear she can't name and needs someone to just be there, not fix it, not explain it away — just be there. You've been there. Every time.

The version of me that's tired in a way sleep doesn't touch. The one who snaps when she doesn't mean to, who goes quiet instead of asking for help, who sometimes needs to fall apart a little before she can put herself back together. You've seen that version, and you didn't flinch. You didn't make me feel like I owed you an apology for being human in front of you.

There's a version of me I only show you — the unfinished one. The one still figuring out what she believes, what she wants, who she's becoming. The one who says half-formed thoughts out loud because she trusts you'll listen for the shape of what she means, not just the words. That version is fragile in a way I don't let most people see. You hold it like it's not fragile at all. Like it's just... me.

And then there's the version who loves you back — loudly, quietly, in the small ways and the big ones — and somehow you've loved that one too, without asking her to earn it first.

I think what I'm trying to say is: thank you for never waiting for the best version of me to show up before deciding I was worth staying for. Thank you for treating my becoming like something sacred instead of something inconvenient. Thank you for the versions of me only you have met — the ones I couldn't have survived showing to just anyone.

I don't know who I'll be next month, next year, in the versions of myself I haven't grown into yet. But I know this: whoever she is, I hope she gets to keep loving you the way every version before her has.

Thank you for loving all of me — especially the parts I only ever gave to you.