Coward love

I am a quarter of a century old. 25 years. I have had this blog for six years now and written in it more or less regularly, depending on the mood of the day. The more I write, the more depressed and emotional I usually am but I am working on that over-dramatic side of me. Remember when you were a sixteen year old girl, imagining what your life was going to be like was so easy. I was this super confident and big mouthed girl that just knew what she wanted. A big career, a man that would adore her and the perfect jetsetter life... but life didn't exactly turn out the way I thought it would. I met a man, I fell in love, I moved to another country for him and time passed. I read my last entry and I felt nostalgic about all the butterflies and hopes and dreams I had of what this relationship was going to be. I am not unhappy in my relationship but sometimes I wonder if I am happy in it... It's been almost two years since I have moved to Switzerland in order for us to be together. My career has evolved in the right direction, so in any case, the move will never have been for nothing as it has helped me gain experience and climb a few steps up the ladder. When I was sixteen, I believed that love was with a capital L. L-O-V-E. Butterflies in your stomach all the time and this warm fuzzy feeling. I believed that when I would be in a serious relationship it would be the real deal. I wouldn't compromise with just "ok". I would go for the crazy stupid kind of love. The one where you go head over heels for someone. Where you cry on the bedroom floor after a fight because you feel like the world is going to end if he doesn't come back. The kind of love that you want to be together all the time and that when you are separated every single second feels like hours. And in the beginning of my relationship it was the case. There was passionate love-making and passionate fights with tears and doors slamming and love messages and sweet words competing with screaming and throwing plates against the wall. But with every passing month the passion wore out. And now we are just comfortable. Too comfortable. When we fight, I still scream and he still walks out when it becomes too loud but it doesn't hurt the same way anymore. When he leaves, I don't feel this gaping hole inside my chest anymore. Sometimes I even feel relieved. We almost broke up a month ago. Almost. At first it didn't hurt. Not at all. Then it hurt a bit and I cried. But the pain didn't last and I actually felt relieved.... relieved.... I can't believe I am actually saying it. Seeing it black on white makes it all more real. It makes it so much sadder. So much more dramatic. I was relieved my boyfriend wanted to leave me. He is supposed to be the man I am planning on spending the rest of my life with. He is supposed to be the father of my children, my partner in crime until I grow old and I didn't feel sad when I thought I would never feel his arms around me again. I love him. I do. But I feel like we got so comfortable that I don't know if I love him because it is the easy thing to do or if I love him because he is my soulmate. What if I am just a big coward that doesn't want to put herself out there anymore because it has been too hard in the past and she has given way too much to be where she is now, to lose it all again....