Shorts

a letter to my (hopefully) forever love

I think everyone remembers their first love. The love that makes you die inside and the love that makes your brain swirl with thoughts and feelings that are unknown to your senses. There aren't words, really, that can describe it. It's mainly just feelings, and memories and a whole bunch of things combined into one. There isn't a love that looks the same as another because each love is unique. You never know who you will fall in love with. It could be a person you met online, or a high school boyfriend, or even a boy that is just friends with you. You don't chose, I think, who you fall in love with, either. I think that it just happens. Fate or destiny.

I never once thought that I was going to be the girl who would fall in love at an age younger than twenty. I always thought that when we were in high school we didn't know enough about the world to be passionate about something, or someone, so strongly. My beliefs were: Teenagers were simply to naïve and gullible and clueless to love someone with our whole entire existence. We simply didn't have enough experience. What experience, you may ask? I can honestly say that I haven't the slightest clue. Maybe it was because we've always had someone tell us how to feel. Our parents making us think a certain way and the social media and the school's telling us how not to think and to think and what not to think about.

We watch movies and shows and, some people, even read books about how perfect love is and how wonderful a feeling it is. It's glorified in the media more than anything else, it's the biggest and important word, when it comes to emotional feelings, that people throw around like its nothing, like they have nothing better to do than say that they love this and that they love that, like they even know what love is in the first place.

I always thought that it wasn't the person these people were "in love" with, it was the feeling of being wanted, it was the feeling of being cared for, the feeling of being important. In simpler terms, it was being in love with the feeling of being in love, of even the idea of the term, 'in love'. It's very cliche, I admit, but that's what I believed.

When I met you, I didn't think that the way I thought and what I believed in for most of my life would change entirely. To be completely honest, I didn't think that our relationship would last, because that's how I have always believed things to be. High school relationships. don't. last.

We've only been dating for a short period of time, maybe we will break up, things happen that we don't necessarily like, but I'm hoping that we don't. I hope we defy the odds and we last for the rest of our lives.

I guess, taking the words right out of Hazel Grace's mouth (kudos to you John Green for being a magnificent author), that I fell in the love the way you fall asleep; slowly, then all at once.

You always tell me about how much you love my writing, about how you love hearing me read my stories to you because my voice warms your heart. I guess this is my gift to you. Your very own story, written by yours truly.

Let's get down to business, shall we?

I'm writing this in letter form. A "Dear, ..." kind of story because it's the only way I can think of to make it meaningful, to make it yours and yours only.

Dear, ...
I didn't think that we would make it this far, whispering how much we love each other with eyes that say the same. It seems like just yesterday, I was calling you sound guy at the fall play, and actually speaking to you for the first time since I was in 8th grade.

When you touch me, your fingertips leave trails of electricity traveling through my veins. When you kiss me, your lips ignite a swarm of butterflies in my stomach and a storm cloud my brain. When you move the hair from my face and search my eyes with yours with that cute little half smile that you have, I can't help but to think about how much I want to wake up to that look for the rest of my life.

When we say goodbye at the end of the day, it feels like a piece of my heart leaves with you. It's like I'm empty, and I don't feel full again until your arms are wrapping around my waist and your lips are kissing the top of my head, and you're telling me how much you missed me. I truly believe that you are home. My own home that isn't anybody else's.

I can't help but to imagine us ten years in the future, it's irrational, given that anything can happen but I'm keeping an open mind. Us with a little apartment in a city or a cabin in the woods or even on a beach, because I know you love the beach, waking up on Sunday's morning and kissing each other's nose and whispering the words that will more than likely make me feel the same as it does now, like my entire world is standing right in front of me. You'd turn on Frank Sinatra because for some odd reason you love classic music, but I find it adorable, and I like it a lot better than the other stuff you like (oops).  I'd make coffee and curl up with a book, humming the tune of the song playing through the speakers and you'd kiss my head and run your fingers through my hair.

There aren't enough words in the alphabet that I could string together to describe all the wonderful things about you that I love, or to describe all the wonderful feelings you give me. I hope this little letter/story thing gives you a rough idea.

Love,
Yours truly