Q

it was february. you broke into my life with little fanfare. blonde with a killer smile and eyes a thousand shades in different lights. you with your catholic sensibilities and love for art. you with your Chopin at night and savant-like Jeopardy knowledge.

so many things in between, and here we are. today. november.

your arms around me the first of my waking consciousness, “i like you so much” the first words i hear in the morning.

against my cautiousness, despite my guardedness, you’ve proven to be nothing but worthy of my trust.

let’s put it this way: maybe i can never get over the possibility of someone simply walking out of my life. or losing all their affection in a day. but there are those who are worth taking the risk for, maybe even worth the eventual heartbreak. i think what we have is worth it.

who else will slow dance with me in the rain? or pick me up and spin me around with so much ease and mirth? or rap with me, air guitar an entire sequence of fleetwood mac, dance to baby metal? or pretend three-legged race, sketch with me, okay all my artistic whimsies?

how can i replicate the feeling of you making a string of random noises, and me knowing exactly what you meant?

i like this rhythm. i like the cadence of our conversations and the way our hugs fit just right.

i like who i am with you, and who you believe i can be.

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my relationship with the weather as an allegory of character growth:

years ago, i hated the rain. hated it with equal parts fear and condescension. in another timeline, a comforting hand made my rain-induced moodiness better. i thought this must be what a partner should do: to soothe and to provide escape.

with you, i forget that this is the rain i hate. to you it was another day. to me it was that scene in a bildungsroman novel one would break down as a literary character development.

we ran in the rain, you opening the trail, portending splash spots. we kissed in the rain, our lips slick with wetness but finding each other with quick familiarity. we survived the rain: a grand adventure than lost hours and foiled plans.

a question. do people typically like what someone is in relation to them, or who they are independently?

i find myself gravitating towards the latter, reading you as a protagonist, a first-person narrator. and i love the world through your eyes. it is this much more vivid, this much brighter. this much more intriguing. worth going through, because every obstacle is a welcome challenge, a means to be better.

this book is one i never want to stop reading.