Azure Jane Lunatic (azurelunatic) wrote,
Azure Jane Lunatic
azurelunatic

What would I trade for my heart's desire?

Not quite a year ago, wibbble asked me:
If anything were possible, what would you most like to do/be/happen? What price would you be willing to pay for this?
And I answered:

"The one thing I couldn't trade for my heart's desire was my heart itself."

I would like, more than I would like anything else, for Darkside to acknowledge of his own free will how deeply he cares for me, and I would like that deep caring to grow into the romantic variety of love, and I would like to marry him and start a family.

I could not trade possessions or money for this. I would, will, trade my right to complete independence for the responsibility to remain with him in a binding of mutual love, respect, and support. I would trade my hope of finding someone better-suited for the surety of knowing that best-suited or no, we're doing our best, determined to make it work. I would trade complete control of my environment for compromise and occasional discomfort. I would trade sole use of my computer for sharing, in perfect love and perfect trust. I would, if it came to it, trade DSL for a dial-up, financial stability for uncertainty. I would trade polite distance for the occasional TMI about bodily functions. (Though there's been a bit of that already...) I would trade loving all of my relatives for coming to terms with the fact that my father-in-law is a bit of a prick, and my husband can share some of those same qualities. I would trade near-complete privacy and being able to set my own hours for sharing a room, and a bed, and zonking out early so as to not keep him awake. I would trade only seeing him at his best to seeing him at his very worst, when he comes home tired and unhappy. I would trade my childless status for... the unknown.

I would trade who I was for who we both know I can be. And I don't think I'd regret it.

My answer still stands. Those are the things that I am willing to trade, that I can trade. That's what lies behind my quiet certainty.
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