[365 words]
florian thinks about 'deserving'
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I think of it often. When you grab my hand and our fingers weave together, when you tell me all about the newest thing you've learned, when you press your lips to my cheek.
I have done nothing to deserve this.
I know you well enough at this point to guess some possible replies, were I ever to speak that particular thought aloud. And I know you would be right. I know it's not about deserving, in two ways.
First of all, it's just maddening to think that way, and helps no one.
Second of all, it discounts your choice in this, and I know that in particular would make you quite upset. Neither of us are machines. We don't just output love when there's been the correct amount of input. "Deserve" implies one should love those who do "deserve" it. That it would be wrong not to. It would bind it up in horrible rules and cut out the... oh, I know you've taught me this phrase.
The human element. That was it.
I know that you'd be right, were you to say these things in reply. And yet the knowing doesn't erase the thought, doesn't stop it from being the first thing that comes to mind so often.
I am not socially adept. I stumble over my words, particularly embarrassing when you have such a way with them. I am not the kindest person, even when I try. I'm not half as brave as you are.
You see these things, you must. And yet... And yet you risk everything, so that we can be by each other's sides.
I know you're smart. One of the cleverest angels I've ever met. So I'll do my best to trust your judgement. To either think that I'm worthy of this, or that worthiness doesn't matter at all, or to think that everyone's worthy of some joy, or to think all of these things at once.
It certainly makes it easier to reciprocate, when I stop thinking about if I deserve to squeeze your hand back after you've squeezed mine. And when I do, and you smile at me... It's hard to worry about anything at all.