Love isn’t unique.
When I write down these words about you, anyone who reads this can imagine such love because they have seen it, experienced it, ached because of it. And maybe they’re even feeling the same way about their lovers like I’m about you right now.
Yes, that’s right. My love for you isn’t unique. We aren’t unique. We are just these two tiny people in this big, big world.
And you know, maybe the whole thing could just be boiled down to the cliche right time, right place, say if we met 2 years late, I wouldn’t find you so special anymore, or perhaps one day I will love someone so truly, so deeply that I realize what I had for you was far from real love.
But despite all that, nothing will ever, ever change the fact that you once breathed life into my days and showed me magic in the ordinary. And it was real. It happened.
You moved me. You stirred thoughts inside my head. You made words flow out of me. And I tell you now, it’s not an easy thing. Most people make words stuck in my throat and usually what does get to come out isn’t anything profound. And probably not even nice. But this is it. Raw as my flesh. Even after all that time I haven’t seen your face, you still can be the fuel to my fire. You make me want to talk about love, about how I always love you even when I don’t. You make corny one-liner quotes like that feel right.
I always love you even when I don’t.
I think this might be true. There are moments I don’t love you. No, I might even despise you because you are such a flawed human being and you hurt me. But I still love you. If you call me, I still freak the fuck out. If you ask to kiss me, I don’t think I would say no. If you say you love me, I don’t know what I would do. I have no idea how to resist you. Or unlove you if that shit is even possible. Does it make sense to you or do I sound drunk? I swear I’m not drunk. At least not on alcohol anyway. I just really miss how you made me feel.
Trust me — I’ve tried my best to convince myself that this, this stable state of mind is how things should be, that I should give some lovely people a chance but it just doesn’t work and I’m sickeningly jaded. Well, I’m still alright but this will eventually be not alright. I crave that euphoric feeling again. I’m hungry for a life in which every little thing suddenly means something, like the one that blissfully had you.
You made everything better, even Mondays exciting, and me want to pull you in closer.
We didn’t have to ask each other boring questions. I didn’t have to make up my mind. You just slipped right into my system through the tiny crack of hope blinded to all others when you said, ‘Don’t be too guarded’ — naturally and effortlessly. I wished time had stopped when our knees touched under that table.
Tell me something. Why must it be you? How did you get me so hooked? Why did I notice everything about you? Why do I remember everything about you? When did you turn from a nobody into such a precious someone to me? How the hell is it so hard for me to fall for other people since you that I just have to go back to you every damn time I’m reminded of love and low on feelings?
People tell me to be realistic, consider what I’m offered, take what I’m given. To be grateful, lower my standard, and try. They don’t understand that I’m not being difficult about this whole love thing at all. In fact, I’m willing to compromise and make effort. I really am. I just haven’t found anything worthwhile yet. Nothing like the curiosity and admiration I had for you. Nothing like the flush of joy sweeping through my body when I saw your face. Nothing like going home in tears writing about having a fever that if I could survive I could survive anything. That fever was you. I don’t want to settle for less than that.
I don’t know why it must be you. I don’t know why it must be anyone after you. I don’t know when my mind will be ignited and love songs become my bible again. But I miss it. And I want it now.