You always argued that love happened by chance. A random occurrence, lead by a certain person coming to you at the right time, at the right place.
But I didn't think so.
After all, when I first met you I was only just picking up the pieces of my shattered heart. My heart wasn't ready; it wasn't capable of love, and yet it was. It loved you as soon it saw you. I loved you as soon as I saw you.
I remember the chill in the air, the lights from the ferris wheel and the lingering smell of cotton candy as I stood in the middle of the carnival, unable to tear my eyes away from you. You gave me a brilliant smile, introduced yourself as my roommates friend. The rest of the night was a blur of easy conversations, teasing smiles, mucking around and screaming on the scary rides. I sat with you in all of them, thanks to my roommate and her boyfriend.
I remember sitting on the Ferris wheel in a daze, watching the scene around me as we climbed to the top. I wasn't sure if it was the glittering lights below us or the events of this day that made my head lightheaded but I couldn't recall being this happy in the past few months. And just as we reached the very top, you gripped my hand. And I knew. I knew that you, with your honest smiles and open heart were it for me. This was love, except it wasn't by chance.
