The universe never really sent me a warning. When love first arrived, I didn’t pay attention to him the moment he walked right up to me. I didn’t even spare him a second glance. Love wasn’t what I wanted love to be, was far from what I wanted him to be. Love was from a different world and our paths crossing was never part of our plan. But love had already set his heart on me and was persistent. Love showed effort that I never asked him for—love waited for me because love knew I would always walk home. So love walked beside me every single day on my way home and held my hand. Love would even sometimes stay for a little while once we reach the house, love gave me a forehead kiss while my head laid on his shoulder riding the bus but left it at that because love knew that if his lips touched somewhere else, it would be another story. Love made sure I always made it home safe, love inspired me. Love made me do things I never imagined I’d ever do in my life. Love held the ice in the warmth of his hand and it melted. Just like that. But love always fought with me. Love glared daggers at the friend who was only asking for help in courting someone else that he admired. Love stopped talking, stopped seeing me. And love grew tired. Love gave up. But love told me he still wanted to be friends. And with a final wave of hand and a smile, love walked away.
And once he was no longer in sight, I was sure I wanted nothing to do with that. I swore I wouldn’t let love set foot in my house again for a while once it came knocking at my door on a winter night. But love reappeared not long after, just when I wasn’t expecting love to.
Love looked different now. No more tan skin and deep, chocolate eyes. Love smelled different now, spoke differently now. With a sweeter voice, gentler hands, a broader back, and a different kind of warmth. Now love’s eyes, a lighter shade of brown—so mesmerizing. But love wasn’t all new after all. Because love already met me years before, he just didn’t remember. Love didn’t remember my name, but recognized my face. Love wanted to know my name. For the second time. Love roamed the hallways, sneaking a glimpse room after room searching for that one familiar face.
Now love would stay up late at night with me when my mind won’t stop counting reasons to hate myself, keeping me wide awake. But would usually make sure we both got enough rest. Love cared differently now, gave just the kind of love I have always longed for probably without him knowing it. Love became everything I have ever hoped for and so much more. Love’s arms alone felt like home and love offered more kisses now. Love felt safer now. Love made sure he always took care of himself, because he knew I couldn’t afford to lose him, so did I. Love never forgot to remind me knowing I need reassurance every 3 seconds of everyday. Love became the miracle I’ve always asked for from the heavens above. Love became my main source of happiness. Love, every time he got the chance, would hold me in his arms singing me songs all the while running his fingers through my hair and on my skin. Love would wait ‘til I finally got a ride home. Love would always think I’m beautiful—with my hair a mess, cheeks stained with tears, and with a crestfallen face. Love would always say I’m beautiful. But love would also cry, get angry, and would sometimes be cold and distant. Love would also make mistakes and would sometimes forget. Love wasn’t as simple now. Love wasn’t perfect, but neither was I. Love hasn’t been there that long, not all my life, but has been making up for all the years he wasn’t. And that’s all that mattered. Because love promised that love would be here to stay until the very last breath he’d take.