Today was one of the weirdest days for me, but in the kind of way that was,oddly enough, enjoyable. Ah, the butterflies in my stomach. Why don’t they ever quit? For those of you who are wondering: this is a post about falling in love. Gah, I know, that last line was cringe-worthy, wasn’t it? I’ll admit that I feel slightly pretentious writing about love, and from an outsiders view it’s easy to see how I’d look like quite the idiot. A fifteen year old, blogging with starry eyes about what she thinks is love? Sigh, I’m such a cliche, and I know it. But I think I’m in love, and since I’m practically a fetus, I’ll admit- it’s a scary thought to consider. Me? In love? gosh. That’s just…. huge. It’s not magic like I thought it would be, but it is scarier than anyone ever bothered to warn me about. Well, to start off with, nobody bothered to issue me a warning about anything at all regarding love and how it tends to be…. addictive, strong, striking, terrifying. I’m just scared, and I don’t know if it’s normal for the mere notion of love to be scary. I hope it’s a normal thing, because I am in love, this would be my first love.
I’ve heard a lot about first loves, and how they tend to burn out very quickly, how they are plaintive and how they are infatuating more than anything else. I’ve been with my S.O for a little over a year now, which I guess is pretty long, maybe not in the scheme of things, but to a clueless fifteen year old, it’s long And a year was a pretty long learning journey for me, my first relationship taught me so much and shattered so many of my expectations. I’ve learnt to find beauty in all the imperfections that come with having a human relationship- the jealousy, tears, fighting. Because all the nasty stuff is what comes with the awesome stuff that makes us human– loyalty, gestures, and love. The year has been amazing, but I think what’s been even more amazing is how throughout it all I was calmer than I expected. I wasn’t in a constant state of daydreamer-esque delirious happiness. The relationship came with tears and fights ad conflicts, yet somehow the fight and conflicts seemed to be totally outweighed by the love and the wonderful emotions. I couldn’t tell him, “I am in love with you” even though I knew, somewhere deep down that I was. But I couldn’t really say “I am in like with you”, ’cause who does that? This feeling I feel, if it is love, is very soothing, re assuring. It doesn’t seem to bear any resemblance to the crazy, starved voice of infatuation that I’ve heard quite a few times before. Love seems to be the voice that whispers in the back of my mind “I am here. I do not complete you or define you, but I definitely accept you completely” This foreign feeling is not one filled with fireworks and wonder- it doesn’t send mental sparks flying every time I think about it. Unlike the flames of infatuation, love seems to peacefully co-exist with me, no questions asked. I’m just so scared. I was scared when I realized I might be in love. I couldn’t possibly pinpoint the exact moment I fell in love, that would be impossible to do. I can tell you that it was somewhere in between the day he kissed my (self harm) scars and the time we had the huge argument and he just wordlessly opened his arms to me. Somewhere in between there, or maybe earlier, like the day I set eyes on him, almost two years ago. I really can’t tell, because there are so many moments that could’ve made me fall in love. It’s just so terrifying to have one person out of seven billion mean so much to you, to have your heart to involuntarily commit you to something so grand, without having any guarantee of getting anything in return. What’s scarier is that my heart doesn’t seem to give a fuck whether or not it gets anything back in return, it seems content with just loving. It’s exhilarating to know he’s in love with me too, gosh. It makes me wonder what I was missing all this while.
It makes me wonder whether or not he’s scared, too- every time his fingers are laced with mine, every time he plants a kiss on my forehead, very time he just hugs me, every time he’s cried in front of me? Is love what he feels? During the kisses, yelling, crying, creaming, and silence? Is this love? Damn, I wish I had an answer. They always say you will know when it’s love, and somewhere deep inside of me I know that it is love. That’s what I think it is, but I’m a first timer in the business of loving and being loved. Maybe I’m trying to convince myself out of the idea that this is love. This is terrifying, but it’s an enjoyable ride.