"First love is scary because it’s like “holy crap, why is this person the first thing I think of in the morning, why am I disappointed when I don’t dream of them? Why is the desire to be with them so much stronger than hunger and thirst and exhaustion? Why does their name look so pretty written down? Why do I feel like I just fell out of a 30 story building when they look at me, and why do I like it?” And you become so comfortable with them that when they leave, your body doesn’t know how to react because they were as common to you as breathing, and now you’re missing a vital part of yourself. You forget that you were someone before them. You think “I was so empty until I met them.” No, you were full. And when you learned about love, you were fuller. Now you’re back to where you were before, and you need to fill yourself with other things. Fall in love with the way sunflowers naturally curve to face the sun, and the way children have no idea about taxes. Fall in love with the fact that you’re here and you’re still able to feel. Fall in love with the idea that you’re still whole, even when it’s 3 am and you can’t remember how to breathe because you think they taught you how to do that."
"I’ve fallen in love with you one hundred and thirty two times.
The first was at 2am, sheets sticking to our skin, sharing a pillow,
“tell me another secret”,
The twenty third time was on a highway four hundred miles later. You held my face, the sun with butterflies, the sky with pink. I felt the world spinning around its invisible axis, the solar system around its visible star, my heart dizzy from your gravity.
The seventy seventh time was when you came pouring out like a waterfall onto my toes. Give it all to me baby, the entire river, the flow and crash. I can take it. I can count so much higher.
The one hundred and tenth time was when you took it all away from me. Left my mouth gaping, a vacuum trying to suck you back in. I fell in love with you as you were leaving, fell in love with what I’d miss.
Fell in love with the face I kissed for the last time two days ago without knowing it.
The one hundred and twelfth time was in the mouth of another man calling me baby. “you’re mistaken, I was not born in you, I was born in blue eyes that are blinking somewhere else now”.
And shit, I fell in love with you just a moment ago, naked in your arms again, glutinous in how much of you I take, hoarding each moment I get in your arms, keeping them in the caves of my memory in case I’m forced to hibernate again.
I’ve known you for six hundred and something days, loved you in three hundred and something of them. Some days I spend worrying about finances and the state of the world, some days I spend locked in my room listening to Radiohead albums on repeat, some days I smoke too much and some days I sleep through to take a break from being awake. But some days I experience the in-between of miracles and magic. Some days I lose myself entirely, all because you exist. Some days you look at me and I forget my name. I fall in love over and over, again and again, adding another tally to the wall.
I’ve been alive for seven thousand and something days, most of which were mundane. Most of which were wasted. Some of which were spent falling in love with you, in your voice and in your fingertips, in your eyes and in your stride, in your presence and in your absence.
Over and over.
Again and again.
With infinite tallies on a wall."
"Who did that to you? Who fucked you up so bad, emotionally and mentally that you’ve completely shut down anyone who tries to help you. You don’t talk about your feelings, you push kind people away, and you let negative people in. You refuse to open up and let someone love or care about you. Who fucking did that to you?"