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Hey.
I'm deeply apologizing, because I really didn't know what love looked like. I didn't know what real romance is. I was a fool for writing about love when I haven't seen the real thing.
I used to think that love is just a trick played on humanity so we wouldn't... well, be endangered. To save the race, to continue the mighty species ever made. I told myself that if I'm going to see love walking at my direction, I'm going to tap its shoulder and ask directly into its eyes why it arrived so late.
But then, my love, I couldn't stare directly at your eyes and ask why you arrived so late.
I expected you at fourteen, along with other girls who expected love to come at an age so young, with a cute boy who's younger than me but actually taller, so okay. Yeah. Could accept it if he introduces himself as love - but he didn't. Only passed by for a short while.
I expected you at fifteen, with my friend's brother, who's actually sweet and caring enough. But he was just... my friend's brother, and nothing else came with him.
I expected you at sixteen, with my bestfriend. I thought a guy and a girl can never be just friends as those young adult novels say but well - they're wrong, and my bestfriend and I were still... us.
I expected you at seventeen, with a stranger I met just that year. We didn't work out.
I stopped expecting you when I reached eighteen, love. I just stepped into womanhood and well, if God says that my lane is not the right lane for love to walk on, then - okay, I'm not really looking for you right now.
But you know how playful fate can get - and love, in all your curls and brown eyes - arrived at nineteen.
And I wasn't able to take my eyes off you since then.
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