That’s not to say that I don’t want to love and be loved; just to say that it’s no longer a question of “You complete me.” What I need now, which is so different to what I needed ten, five, or even three years ago, is not filling, but a use for my fullness. I want someone that will push against the wall inside me where I’ve spent all my time repairing the spidery cracks spreading across the surface. And when the destructive veins behind to reemerge, I want someone who will stand beneath me, holding the ladder I’m climbing to reach the blemishes, handing me the tools I need to smooth out the puckering in the paint as I go.
I don’t want anyone to complete me anymore, regardless of whether I feel complete or not. All I want is to be a girl standing in front of a boy, eyes full of tears, professing my love, and with ultimate resolve say, “You extend me.
— Kat George, No One Else Will Ever Complete You. (via seelenlos)