Love Always Starts Like This


It starts like this:

You are a thing not given much thought. A minuscule event that bothered a not-so important day. An unexpected reply from a meaningless chatter.

Conventional thinking led to wishfulness, and you began to mean a little bit more:

You were an anticipated text in the middle of the night. A boisterous laugh that pleads to be heard. A movie that has to be seen. A clammy hand to hold.

A minute before I met you, I thought I saw the horizons completely. What was expected, what was bound to happen. But, as you are yourself, you came into my life too loud to control.

I fancy you as unreasonably beautiful. Your mind, your voice, and your laughter — your sadness.

I admired your eyes and the way they would look when you got a little sidetracked, compelling me to listen to whatever it was you were saying. I reveled in your passion, your amazing capability to pour all of yourself into something that holds your heart near. I craved your attention; it felt wonderful to be seen by you.

And isn’t that astonishing?

Just a few months ago, you were just a wisp of a person to me. Your relevance to my life was close to nonexistent.

But now? Breathtaking.

I have to say, I don’t really know where I’m going with this. It’s just that it’s 2:55 AM, you fell asleep during the Skype call and I’m finding it really hard not to say those three god forsaken words to your closed eyes. Please don’t find it eerie that I still adore you.

All I’m saying is, I find it staggering that my soul knew a time before you.

You were a nonentity but now you are my world.

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