As I lay here in your arms, I remember the nights I endured before you. I think back to the constant trembling, how at a time like this I’d be curled up in my bed, my eyes the equivalent of bursting pipes after holding in my sadness throughout the day. If I was lucky, I’d have time to muffle the sobs. I wasn’t always lucky. I remember breaking when the ones before you left, walking out of the door with pieces of me in tow. But for the first time since then, I feel like I was never broken in the first place, just bent out of shape. Every time your arms tighten around me, I straighten out. It’s almost like you know, almost like you care enough to notice when I don’t seem whole and try to help, just like I would for you. Perhaps this is what love is supposed to be like.
— Maxwell Diawuoh, Request: Someone who completely changes your view on love. Someone who wipes away all past doubts.