-Ang

As a writer and a romantic, I am surrounded by love. Whether I read poetry, write my own, or read my romance novels, I can’t escape falling in love. I spent most of my teenage and young adult years believing I would only ever experience love vicariously through my friends or the media I consumed. I never knew I was worthy of love or attention. I wrote about it, read about it, witnessed it, and yet still felt like I would never be able to experience it. I hated this. For years, I lived on the sidelines, envious of everyone around me. I loved love, and I still do. But I hated never being able to experience any of it for myself. The soft glances or the smiles only the two of you understood. Then, I met him.          Every writer always talks about “the first meeting.” What they felt when the love of their life first entered their lives. Maybe the world went quiet, or perhaps they locked eyes, and their heart stopped. I’ve known of him for a long time before I officially met him. I figured we’d cross paths every couple of months, maybe have a conversation here and there about what’s going on in our lives. Nothing more but a friend in passing. My heart was intrigued while my brain did everything possible to undermine how much I wanted to get to know him. I could sit and write for hours the thoughts that entered my brain when I knew I’d have to see him, the random nerves I could never quite explain. I hoped every time I saw him, the meeting would go better than the last. I won’t be so nervous this time, or I’ll make him laugh with a quick joke. My insecurities got the best of me for a while, and I realized I wouldn’t see him for a while, so what’s the point of trying? But something in me refused to let this one go.          I knew I fell in love with him because being with him never felt forced. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t from the first time we ever hung out on our own. The moment he smiled at me; it was like an unspoken way of telling me that he was someone I could be safe with no matter what relationship we would ever hold in the future. I knew I fell in love with him because his arms around me felt like another extension of me instead of something suffocating, when hugging him felt like going home. When he laughs, I get angry at the world for depriving me of that laugh for years. When he speaks to me about his interests, I would choose to listen to him for hours over my favorite songs. When he looks at me, I don’t just feel like I am loved. I feel like I am the definition of love.               My whole life, I was told that hating me was easy while loving me was difficult. Because of that, I thought everyone was hard to love. People have their flaws; I know I have many. They can be mean, selfish, and complicated. Everyone complaining to me about their boyfriends made it seem like loving them was a chore. But loving him feels easier than breathing. They say when a writer falls in love with you, you can never die. Whether I get to have him forever or for a moment, may my love for him be immortalized anyway.

In order to heal from it, you have to let yourself feel it. Repeat it!