Thursday, November 20, 2008

There was more love in that sentence than a thousand bed time stories.

I like to think that somewhere out there, on a planet exactly like ours, two people exactly like you and me made totally different choices and that, somewhere, we're still together. That's enough for me.

I fell in love with the way you wrote. How you took the time to say exactly what you meant instead of leaving everything to those inane moments when we’d meet in the street, making strange noises with our mouths in the hope that they’d somehow convey how we felt. You and I were always better written down than standing up.

I always wanted you. Even when I had you. I could drink from you forever and never be any less thirsty than I was that first day. The day I realized how parched I'd always been.

Once, years ago, I looked up by mistake and fell into your eyes. I’m still falling. Sometimes, it feels like flying.

All your work. All your play. None of it compares to one night spent next to the warm body of someone you love. You need to learn this sooner rather than later.

You told me that there were two of me, in me. The me I pretended to be. And the real me. You asked me to guess which one you loved more. You kissed me before I could answer and in that moment, I knew.

Science and art. Washing dishes and adding numbers. Driving taxis and sailing ships. Find what you love. It doesn’t matter what it is or how much money you’ll make or what people will think of you. Just find it and hold on tightly.

You called me over when I was young and told me you wanted to see how strong I was. I was eager to impress you so I obliged. You told me to put my hand in front of my face and try to keep it there, while you tried to pull it away. I thought I was doing so well as I strained against your arm. Until you let go. And I hit myself so hard I ended up on the ground with a bleeding nose. You helped me up, after you’d finished laughing, and said “Let that be a lesson. Trust no one. Not even me.” Despite what had happened, there was more love in that sentence than a thousand bed time stories.

When hurt turns red and a piece of your heart is missing. When the cold bites deep and you’ve got that feeling like you just got out of surgery. When the only way to stay sane is to concentrate on anything else but how you feel. When you count the tiles in the ceiling. When you push the earphones closer. When the first day of winter arrives. When you remember every nuance of every word of every time. When all this happens. Embrace it. Feel every feeling. Cry every tear. Sob every sob. Because this is what it feels like to have loved.

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