a note to love
i’m putting you, love, in charge of this. don’t let me become who i promised i would never be. don’t let me ruin things as soon as life gets bumpy. you once told me that it has to be rocky, that it has to feel human. “because,” you said, “if it’s not scary and exhilarating and humid, it’s not real”. and the thing is, i didn’t believe you at first. and so when love came in the form of a tall boy with glasses who laughed at his own jokes, i figured it couldn’t hurt that bad. but that’s the thing about love, it teaches you more about yourself than about the other. and, my god, when the one thing you want is out of your reach, that’s when love hurts the most. and so i’ve been asking myself, why. why did i risk it all for you when you warned me it would hurt, when you told me you could break me into a million pieces. and i’ve come to realize that i needed to know how it felt to shatter in order to be put back together. and that is the secret: let yourself crumble but never be afraid of a little glue. so that when the tall boy with glasses tells you he loves you, you can say it back. and you can mean it, you can mean it through all the tears and every heartbreak. you can mean it even if you had met love before. and you can mean it even when you really don’t want to. and i still think that there is beauty in the tangled lines that are left unexplained. so i guess i just wanted to thank you, love, for everything. for the nauseating butterflies and the pounding deep in my chest. and of course for the love i feel for myself. for all of it.











