Books and Boys

I have plans.  I’m 19 years old, and my life is panning out exactly the way I’ve thought it would since I was a child.  I’m in college.  I’m earning a degree.  I’m headed toward some kind of career, something to do with books, I hope.  I’m in a stable, almost year-and-a-half relationship, heading toward marriage down the road, with a guy that I really love a lot.

But sometimes I wonder if I’m tying myself down too early.

He and I are virtually the same person.  We are each others’ first relationship, and it’s a seeming dream.  We have the same type personality, ultimately the same goals, and basically the same philosophy on life, which is to roll with the punches and be happy.  We even look alike.

But sometimes I wonder.

There are differences between us.  Huge ones.  Two of the things I’m most passionate about, books and travel, he could easily take or leave.  If I had to survive without books or without him, I know I’d survive easier without him.  At least, sometimes I think I would.

It makes me wonder.

Sometimes I ask myself if I can actually live my entire life with someone that doesn’t love the thing I love most other than family.  Can I do that?  Is it possible to be happy with someone who will support me but will never fully engage in my passion?  Or even try to engage, at least a little bit?

And then I have to ask myself, am I doing the same thing for him?  Are there passions of his that maybe I don’t realize are so strong, that I could make an effort to be excited about?  And is it really worth making myself choose between two things that I love, when I have more than enough friends and family that also love books to sustain my book-loving soul?

And the answer is no.  I love what I have.  I’m excited about our future.  But as one who does, deeply and entirely, love books, I can’t deny that every time his disinterest shows it stirs up emotions that I despise when they’re directed at him. Every time his disinterest shows it feels as if it physically wounds me.  But however much pain those wounds might inflict, it’s nothing that the same person who caused them can’t heal.

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