The first one was 3192

It’s not love – you never swept me off my feet. I struggle to believe that anyone would be able to, but even you, with the broken diamonds in your teeth and glitter in your eyes, and that swagger, even you couldn’t manage it.

I’ve always been able to think about other things rather than you, but you were a better option than the alternative. With that said, I feel more than endearment for you and I don’t know that I could turn my back without a moment’s thought. We’ve progressed over the last few months from a mutual and grudging affection, to an acceptance.

You terrified me at first. I was certain I could never really know you, wasn’t sure that I wanted to. The first few weeks after our introduction passed quickly, blurrily. I didn’t trust you and didn’t trust myself around you. What did we even do those first few weeks? They left me drained, wrung-out with exhaustion. I used to wake up at 4am and be near-death by 4pm, blind and deaf with tiredness. Though our union was chosen, I sometimes questioned that choice, wondered if the other one might’ve been kinder to me, easier. Carrying a steel midbeam by myself on the tram that rattled down Burnley Street made me ask that question, so did the lunch room conversation and so did the colour of our bedroom walls, a slightly off mint green that was punctured with old Blu-Tack. I won’t lie and say that the question wasn’t asked.

I strayed. I needed to, needed to make the comparison and to be reminded of the right choice. Needed to have the sugar bowl filled back up to the brim, swap the batteries over so I could look at you and say yes, instead of no. It was only a couple of days, and I came back, didn’t I?

I’ve never liked you for the same reasons that everyone knows you for, never really seen the characteristics in you that others guffaw over. It took me a while to see past the bravado, but I guess luckily for you, I liked what I saw. You took some things from me, gave me back others. I never thought about it too much because my head was busy deciding what to do next. You had taken all my money, so there were some choices I would have to make. You and your bravado took it from me when I wasn’t being careful, while I was caught up in the newness and excitement of it all. Then there came the moment where I was able to grab what I wanted, and there was purpose and drive behind our existence together. Everything was screaming out a reason.

I’m thankful for the year, happy about it, I don’t look at it with any scorn or vengeance. On days where I don’t feel like leaving my feet planted on the ground, I live where there is an accent on top of the ‘e’. It’s become a comfort of sorts, this thing between you and I. Perhaps it’s still not easier than the one who pronounces their vowels properly, but I know you well now, so there are fewer moments that startle me. So here's to that year.