I_ll Marry You But There Are Two Things You Need To Understand _ Sheikh Hamdan _ Fazza Poems _ Fazza

Hinzugefügt: 2026-05-05

[00:00:00]My love, I will marry you. I want you to hold that sentence in your hands for a moment before we go any further. I want you to feel the weight of it, the realness of it, the fact that I am not saying it lightly or carelessly or because it sounds beautiful. I am saying it because I mean it in the deepest, most unshakable part of who I am. I will marry you. But before we get there, before we talk about what that looks like and what it means and what kind of life I want to build you. There are two things I need you to understand. Two things that nobody else has ever said to you the right way. Two things that might change how you see everything that comes after. And I need you to stay with me. I need you to not look away even when it gets to the part that surprises you.

[00:00:49]Because what I'm about to tell you is the most honest thing I have ever offered another person and you deserve every word of it. I have been thinking about this for a long time. Not just today. Not just this week. For a long time. In the quiet spaces between everything else. I have been thinking about you and about what it would mean to choose you completely. To choose you not just in the romantic sense. Not just in the flowers and the promises and the beautiful moments sense. But in the full real daylight sense. In the Tuesday morning sense. In the hard conversation sense. In the I see all of you and I am not going anywhere sense. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that before I could ask you for that kind of life, I owed you something first. I owed you the truth. Not a version of it. Not the parts that make me look good. The whole thing laid out flat with nothing hidden underneath. So that's what this is. This is me coming to you before the proposal and before the ring and before any of the beautiful things that come after to say here I am.

[00:02:03]Here is who I actually am. Here are the two things you need to understand about loving me, about building a life with me, about saying yes to a future that has my name in it. Because you deserve to choose with full information. You deserve to walk into this with your eyes completely open. And if you still want me after this, if you hear everything I'm about to say and you still reach for my hand, then I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret that reach. The first thing I need you to understand is this. I am not easy to love. I want to say that slowly and clearly so it lands the way it deserves to land. I am not easy to love. Not because I am cruel. Not because I am careless. Not because I don't try. But because I am someone who feels everything very deeply and very quietly at the same time. And those two things together can be confusing for someone who loves you. I can be in the same room as you sitting close enough to touch and still be somewhere far inside myself that you can't quite reach. Not because I've left. Not because something is wrong. But because that is how I am wired. I go inside. I go deep into whatever I'm feeling or thinking or trying to understand and sometimes I forget to leave a door open so you can follow me in there. And I know what that feels like from the outside. I know it feels like distance. I know it can feel like absence even when I'm present. Like silence even when nothing is wrong. Like a coldness that has no good explanation.

[00:03:43]And I need you to understand before you say yes, before you commit to a life of mornings with me, that there will be days when I go quiet and it has nothing to do with you. Nothing. Not with something you said or something you did or some failure on your part to be enough. It is simply me being the particular kind of complicated person that I am. Working through something in the only way I know how. And on those days, the most loving thing you can do for both of us is not to pull at the silence, but to sit beside it. To trust it. To know without needing me to say it every time that I am always going to come back. That the quiet is never permanent. That you have not lost me just because you cannot find me for a moment. I have never been able to explain this to anyone the right way before. I have tried and I have watched the explanation fall short every time.

[00:04:39]Watched the person on the other side of it hear the words but not quite receive them. Not quite trust them. And then spend the rest of the relationship treating my silence like a wound that needed diagnosing. And it broke things.

[00:04:53]Slowly. Painfully. In the particular way that misunderstanding breaks things. Not dramatically, but by accumulation. Small moments of doubt adding up over time until the weight of them became too much. And I don't want that with you. I refuse to let that happen with you.

[00:05:11]Which is why I'm telling you now, before anything else, before we take another step toward the life I want us to have.

[00:05:18]When I go quiet, come sit beside me.

[00:05:21]Bring your warmth into my silence without demanding that I fill it. And I promise you, I absolutely promise you that when I come back, I will come back more fully than before. I will come back with something real to give you. I will come back having understood something about myself that I can then offer to you openly the way you deserve to have it offered. Because that is what my silence is when you understand it properly. It is not withdrawal. It is preparation. It is the way I love you even when I cannot show it yet. It is me going down into the deepest part of myself to find something worth bringing back to you. And everything I have ever created, everything honest and real and lasting that has ever come out of me came from those quiet places. Which means that when you sit beside my silence without fear, you are not just loving me. You are making me better. You are giving me the conditions I need to become the version of myself that is most worth loving. And that is a profound and sacred thing to give another person. Even when it doesn't feel like it. Even when it feels like nothing is happening. Everything is happening. And the second thing, the second thing is harder to say and I need you to stay with me through it. I need you to hear it all the way to the end before you decide what you think about it. Because it starts in a place that might feel uncomfortable and it ends in a place that I think you have always wanted someone to take you. The second thing I need you to understand is that I will love you in a way that will sometimes frighten you. Not because it is dangerous. Not because it is unstable. But because it is so complete, so without reservation, so genuinely and permanently yours that there will be moments when the size of it feels like too much. When you will look at how I love you and feel unworthy of it. When something you will say this cannot be real. This cannot be for me. People don't get loved like this. I must be misunderstanding something. I need you to understand that when that voice appears and it will appear. Because it appears for everyone who has ever been offered something larger than what they were taught to expect. I need you to not listen to it. I need you to choose consciously and deliberately to believe me instead. To believe the love instead of the fear. Because the fear is old.

[00:07:54]The fear was built by experiences that have nothing to do with me. By people who came before me and did not love you the way they should have. By moments that taught you to expect less than you deserved and to be suspicious when more arrives. That fear makes sense. I am not asking you to pretend it doesn't exist.

[00:08:13]I am asking you to hold it gently the way you'd hold something that once protected you but doesn't need to anymore. And then set it down. Set it down and let me show you what I mean when I say I will love you. Because when I say I will love you, I mean I will love you on your worst days. The days when you can't see anything good in yourself. When the mirror feels like an enemy. When the version of you that you're most ashamed of is the one that keeps showing up no matter how hard you try to be different. I will love that version. I will sit across from that version and not flinch and not look for the exit and not make you feel like you need to fix yourself before I can stay.

[00:08:57]I will always stay.

[00:09:00]And when I say I will love you, I mean I will pay attention. Not just to the big things. Not just to the birthdays and the milestones and the moments that are easy to notice. I mean I will pay attention to the small things. The way your face changes when you're trying not to cry. The specific kind of quiet that means you need to be held versus the kind that means you need space. The foods that comfort you when nothing else can. The songs that reach you in places words can't. The particular way you carry yourself when you're proud of something but haven't decided yet whether it's safe to show it. I will learn all of it. I will keep learning it for the rest of my life. Because you are not something that can be fully known in a year or five years or 10. You are a lifetime of discovery. And I want every year of that discovery, every season, every new room I find in you that I didn't know was there. I will marry you.

[00:09:59]I said it at the beginning and I will say it again now. Here, after everything, after the first thing and the second thing and all the honesty in between. I will marry you not because you are perfect. You are not and neither am I. And I think the idea that love requires perfection is one of the most damaging lies anyone ever told about what two people can be to each other. I will marry you because you are real.

[00:10:26]Because you are here. Because something about who you are found something about who I am and the two things recognized each other across all the distance and noise of the world and said, "There.

[00:10:39]That one." I will marry you because choosing you feels less like a decision and more like an arrival. Like I have been traveling toward you for longer than I knew and every road I took, even the wrong ones, even the painful ones, even the ones I thought were taking me somewhere completely different, every single one of them was quietly, faithfully leading me here.

[00:11:04]And there is still the question I haven't asked yet. The one that lives at the end of all of this, after the two things and the truth and the confession and the love laid out flat with nothing hidden underneath. There is still the moment I have been building toward. The moment I have been preparing you for with every word of this. The moment that everything changes.

[00:11:28]The moment that takes everything I have just said and makes it real in a way that words alone never quite can. But before I get there, before I take you to that moment, I need to stay here with you just a little longer because I realized there is something I skipped over. Something I moved past too quickly in my hurry to be honest with you and it deserves its own space, its own time, its own careful attention because you deserve careful attention. You have always deserved it. I want to go back to the beginning. Not the beginning of tonight, not the beginning of this confession, but the real beginning. The place where this feeling first took root in me and started growing before I even had a name for it. Because I think if you understand where this started, you will understand better why it has become what it is now. Why it is so large and so certain and so completely without doubt. And I think understanding that will help you believe it the way I need you to believe it. Not just in your head, but in your body, in your chest, in the quiet center of you that has been waiting for a long time to be told something true. It started with watching you. Not in a way that should make you uncomfortable. In the most tender way I know how to describe. It started with noticing things about you that I don't think anyone else was taking the time to notice. The way you show up for other people, even when you are clearly running on empty yourself. The way you hold space for everyone around you and then go home alone and hold yourself together with whatever is left over. The way you laugh, really laugh, not the polite social laugh, but the real one.

[00:13:12]The one that catches you off guard and takes over your whole face before you can decide whether it's appropriate. I noticed that laugh. I noticed it and I stored it somewhere safe inside me because it was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen and I knew even then that I wanted to spend my life being the reason it happened. I noticed the way you love things. Not people things. The way you talk about the things that matter to you. The books or the places or the small rituals that make your life feel like yours. There is a particular kind of light that comes into your eyes when you are talking about something you genuinely love.

[00:13:51]Something that has nothing to do with performing or impressing anyone.

[00:13:55]Something that is just purely and simply yours. That light is one of the most honest things about you. It is the part of you that cannot lie even when the rest of you is trying to be careful or composed or whatever the moment seems to require. And I have spent more time than you probably know just waiting for that light. Just arranging conversations and moments and questions specifically designed to bring it out because every time it appeared, I felt like I was seeing the truest version of you. The version beneath all the versions. The one that exists before the world gets involved and I fell in love with that version first. Before anything else.

[00:14:36]Before the complexity and the history and the two things I told you about earlier. I fell in love with the version of you that lights up and then everything else followed naturally. The way everything always follows when the foundation is real. I want to tell you what I imagine when I let myself, when I gave myself permission to go to the place where the future lives and look around at what it might contain. I want to tell you what I saw there because it was not grand. That is the thing that surprised me most about it. I am someone who thinks in large terms, in big feelings, in sweeping gestures. And yet when I imagined the life with you, what came to me were the smallest things.

[00:15:19]Ordinary things. The kind of things that don't make it into love songs because they are too quiet, too undramatic, too simply and purely human to translate into something that sounds romantic from the outside. I imagined Sunday mornings, specifically Sunday mornings before the day has made any demands of either of us, when there is nothing required and nowhere to be. I imagined the particular quality of light that comes through windows on Sunday mornings. That slow, unhurried, golden kind of light that makes everything look slightly more beautiful than it actually is. And I imagined you in that light, just existing in it.

[00:15:59]Maybe reading something. Maybe looking out the window. Maybe doing absolutely nothing with the particular grace that you have for doing nothing, which is actually something which is presence, which is the thing I have been most hungry for in my life. Just you in Sunday morning light and me nearby and the knowledge that we had the whole day and the whole week and the whole life ahead of us with no deadline and no rush and nothing to prove to anyone.

[00:16:27]I imagined cooking for you. I want you to know that. I imagined learning the specific things you like. Not the things you say you like when someone asks, but the real things. The ones you reach for when nobody is watching.

[00:16:42]The ones that make you close your eyes for half a second when you taste them because they hit something in you that needed exactly that. I imagined learning those things one by one, slowly across months and years, adding them to a list I keep only for you. And then I imagined surprising you with them. Not on special occasions, on ordinary Tuesdays. On the days when you are tired and the world has asked too much of you and you come home needing something to tell you without words that you are loved and considered and thought about even in the small things. Especially in the small things.

[00:17:18]I imagined fighting with you. I know that sounds strange to put in the middle of all of this, but I think it is one of the most important things I can tell you about how I intend to love you. So stay with me. I imagined the arguments, the real ones. The ones that come from two people who care deeply and see things differently and are too invested in each other to be politely indifferent about it. I imagined the tension and the frustration and the moments where we are both certain we are right and equally certain the other person is being impossible. And I imagined what happens after.

[00:17:55]The coming back. The sitting down across from each other when the heat has cooled and saying, "I don't want to be right more than I want to be close to you. I don't want to win this more than I want to keep you."

[00:18:08]And then the repair, which is always more intimate than the argument, always more revealing, always the place where real love either proves itself or doesn't. I intend to prove myself every time. I want you to know that. I intend to be the person who comes back to the table every single time. No matter what we were fighting about, no matter how justified I feel or how wronged or how certain I am that the whole situation is not my fault, I will come back to the table because you are more important than being right. Because our life together is more important than any single argument inside it. Because I watched what happens when two people stop coming back to the table and I will never, not with you, not for any reason, let that be our story. I imagined getting it wrong. This one is important, too. I imagined the moments where I fall short of who I want to be for you. Where the silence goes on too long or the words come out badly or I miss something I should have noticed or I show up in a way that is less than what you needed. I imagined those moments because they are coming. They are inevitable. Not because I don't love you enough, but because I am human enough and I wanted to see them in advance in the imagined version of our life so I could practice what I want to do when they arrive. And what I want to do, what I am committing to right now before anything else, is to own them. To not explain them away or defend myself before I apologize or make you feel like your hurt needs to justify itself to my intentions. I want to simply say, "I got that wrong. I am sorry. Tell me how to do better." And then do better. Not perfectly, but genuinely, consistently, with real effort and real love behind it. I want to grow with you. That is a thing people say, and it sounds nice, and it often means very little. So, let me tell you specifically what I mean by it. I mean I want to be a different person at 40 than I am today, and I want that difference to have your fingerprints on it. I want to look back in 10 years and be able to trace the ways you changed me, the ways loving you made me more patient, more present, more honest, more willing to be vulnerable, more capable of receiving love without deflecting it, which is something I have struggled with for longer than I would like to admit. I want to be shaped by you, the way people are shaped by the things that matter most to them. I want our life together to leave a mark on me that anyone who knew me before would be able to see and say, "Something happened to him." Something good. Something permanent. Something that made him finally, fully himself. And I want to be that for you, too.

[00:20:53]I want to be one of the things that, when you look back, you can point to and say, "That changed me. Not broke me, not diminished me, not asked me to be smaller than I was. Changed me. Expanded me. Opened rooms in me I didn't know were closed." I want to be the relationship that finally showed you what you actually deserve, so that you stop apologizing for wanting it and start simply receiving it, the way beautiful things deserve to be received openly, with both hands, without guilt.

[00:21:22]I need to tell you about the ring. I know, I know, stay with me. I need to tell you not what it looks like, but what I thought about while I was thinking about it. Because the thinking happened before the finding, and the thinking is the part that matters. I sat with the idea of it for a long time. The idea of choosing something that would live on your hand, that you would look down at every day of your life, that would be there in the ordinary moments and the extraordinary ones.

[00:21:52]That would catch the light when you're tired, and when you're happy, and when you're somewhere in between. And I thought, "What do I want you to feel when you look at it? Not what do I want it to say to other people? What do I want it to say to you privately, in the moments when it's just you and your own hands and the quiet of your own life?"

[00:22:13]And the answer came to me very clearly, the way real answers always do when you stop trying to be clever and just listen. I wanted to say you are chosen.

[00:22:23]Deliberately, completely, above everything else, you are chosen. Not settled for. Not arrived at by default or by circumstance or by the simple fact of proximity in time. Chosen. Looked at carefully, known honestly, and chosen anyway. Chosen because of the quiet and the light and the real laugh and the love you carry for things.

[00:22:44]Chosen because of the strength it takes to stay soft. Chosen because of every complicated and beautiful and difficult and extraordinary thing that makes you specifically, irreplaceably you. That is what I want the ring to say. That is what I want every morning of the rest of your life to say when you look down and remember. And now we are getting close.

[00:23:05]Now we are approaching the moment I have been moving toward through all of this, through the two things and the Sunday mornings and the imagined arguments and the ring and all the honest, careful, real words in between.

[00:23:19]We are almost there, and I want you to take a breath before we arrive, because I want you to be fully present for it. I want every part of you, the brave part and the scared part, and the part that has been waiting longer than it will admit. I want all of you there for what I am about to say to you. All of it.

[00:23:38]Every syllable. Because this is the part that belongs to you completely, the part I have been building toward not just tonight, but for longer than tonight, longer than this confession, longer than I have had proper words for any of it.

[00:23:53]This is the part where I stop circling and walk straight to the center. And the center is you. It has always been you.

[00:24:00]But first, and I know you might be thinking, "He keeps saying but first. He keeps finding another thing to say before the thing." And you are right, and I understand your patience with me is something I should not take for granted. But first, I need to tell you something that came to me recently.

[00:24:18]Something that arrived quietly, the way the most important realizations always do. Not in a dramatic moment, but in an absolutely ordinary one. I was doing something completely mundane. Something so unremarkable that I am almost embarrassed to tell you what it was.

[00:24:34]I was folding laundry. Just standing there in the quiet of a regular afternoon, folding laundry, and it arrived. This thought. This clear, unhurried, completely certain thought.

[00:24:45]And the thought was, "I want to fold her laundry, too." I know, I know how that sounds. Out of all the romantic things a person could think, out of all the sweeping declarations and profound realizations available to the human heart, I landed on laundry. But stay with me, because this is actually the most romantic thing I am going to say to you tonight, if you let it be. Because what I meant, what that thought actually contained when I looked at it honestly, was not about laundry at all.

[00:25:15]It was about ordinariness. It was about wanting to be so woven into your daily life that even the unremakable parts of your existence have me in them.

[00:25:25]Not just the candlelit parts. Not just the occasions and the celebrations and the moments worth photographing. The Tuesday afternoon parts. The nothing special, just another day, this is simply our life parts. I want those. I want them more than I want the grand gestures, more than I want the mountain top moments, more than I want anything that looks impressive from the outside, but doesn't actually feel like home from the inside.

[00:25:51]Because that is what I want with you.

[00:25:54]Home. A real one. Not a place. I have lived in enough places to know that four walls and a roof