In English class the teacher asked, “What is love?”
Some replied that love is like a flower, that it starts as a small bud but eventually blooms into something beautiful.
Another replied that love is like a puzzle; that it seems confusing, but when you find true love, all the pieces fit together, fall into place.
One even dared to say that love is like a microwave; you get out what you put in.
But when she called on me, all I could say is that love is a tightrope; it’s impossible to balance, and when you fall, it hurts like a bitch.
I should have said so much more.
For love is also happiness, a level of bliss that nothing else matches.
“That feeling in your chest that leaps out” and “tugs at the corners of your mouth so you can’t help but smile,” to the point where “you don’t even know what to say next.” That’s how it’s supposed to be.
“Good morning” texts, “goodnight I love you” texts, random texts.
Watching our favorite show in your arms.
Smiling at how ridiculous and hilarious you can be when you’re around me.
Kissing your cheek every day before I leave school.
Listening to you read and sing with that melodious, sexy cadence.
Love is a drug, more addictive than anything.
Not just having the first kiss, but going back for the second.
Calling each other late at night because our lust controls us.
Touching myself and hearing your name tumble off my tongue, wishing it was you instead.
Craving your hugs because that’s all I can get now.
Love is chaos, whether it’s accepted or not.
Wishing I could pass you in the hallway, yet when I do, I panic.
Cutting myself off for a month, but never feeling relief. When I come back, you don’t even notice.
Never knowing if you even see me as a friend. Perhaps I am simply a boredom prostitute.
Wondering why you still don’t follow me.
Love is the worst kind of pain I’ve felt.
Knowing that you loved me and it wasn’t enough to make you stay.
Wondering what I did wrong to make you call everything off so suddenly.
Watching you beat yourself up because you love her, knowing that’s how I feel about you.
Crying the night of prom because I couldn’t stand to be reminded, but knowing that even if I was there, I wouldn’t be okay.
Seeing you in my dreams and waking up to disappointment.
Finding our story in every song I hear on the radio.
Love is forever.
Because despite everything, I still love them for what they were to me.
You were, you still are, so much more.
I will never stop seeing the goodness and light in you, despite the darkness you feel.
I can’t stop loving you.
And I don’t think our story’s over yet.