When you first learn about the water cycle, they don’t tell you the important things, like how:
- Sometimes, the clouds of your eyes will fill up of their own accord, sending raindrops streaking across the windows of your cheeks, and
- You can clench your fists so tight your nails cut half-moons into your palm, but pure stubborn determination is not enough to ward off an oncoming storm, and
- It takes more than half-hearted, perfunctory apologies to clear the bruised sky beneath your eyelids.
There is a boy, except he is not just a boy; he is The Boy and maybe he won’t be The Boy until the end of forever but right now he is The Boy and right now is all that matters.
He wants so much and you want to give him all he wants but there are some things you cannot give and there are some things he cannot get if you are there so you take a step back and let him dream big and live loud and grow into the wings he was always meant for. Sometimes he flies, sometimes he falls. You sit on the ground and tilt your head up and watch him zip across the sky with all the grace you’ve never had, and you don’t think you’ve ever been so proud of anyone in your entire life. When he falls he trips back to you with his wings broken and eyes shuttered and you take him back every time, patch him up and coax all his walls into doors and you listen as he tells you stories of the sun and the stars. The sky is a place you were never meant for and he is someone you were never meant for and one day he will learn how to fly without falling back to you but right now he has one foot on the ground and one hand in yours and right now is all that matters.
There is a boy, except he is not just a boy; he is The Boy with words sharp as cut glass and fingers just right for the piano or the guitar or the spaces between yours. He is The Boy with eyes like city lights and wings in all the colors of the rainbow and a chokehold on your heart.
this is what people say: that when you are young and giddy and naïve, you will think that you love someone when you don’t. teenage dreams have an uncanny ability to paint everything in technicolor shades, to make you drunk on love songs and fairytales and illusions. you will build a house of cards and call it a castle. you think that you love him, but you don’t, they tell you, patronizing, superior. you just wait and see.
but i do, but i do, but i do. i am not some dizzy, careless girl too caught up in a facade — i could not possibly have made this up on my own. when you’re in love you can feel it; it builds a home inside of you, swings from the bars of your ribs, climbs along the wall of your throat. it swims through your veins and lights you from the inside out. it changes you. did you know? the human body recreates itself every six months — nearly every cell and bone dies, and is replaced. you are not who you were last november. and this is what i will tell you: it is the same with love — once you fall in love, you are no longer who you used to be. when your whole universe is sliced into two neat sections of before and after, when the core of your gravity is now tied to one single person, when your heart is no longer yours to keep, really, how could you not know? how could you possibly carve this out of your imagination?
I have never been much of a fan of sceneries, to be honest, but the lack of patience I have for dormant volcanoes and too-tall trees is a problem I’ve never had with you. The tide always rises, the sun always sets, but you? There are few things I can say about you with absolute certainty. You have never been a constant; every time I think I’ve finally managed to pin you down - your little paradoxes, your endearing imperfections, your insecurities painted over by a coat of childish recklessness - you shift, catching me off-guard. And the world accelerates wildly on its axis as my vision blurs, and the knowledge vanishes, slipping out of my fingers like a sleek silver fish, darting off back into the realms of the unknown. You are one scenery I could watch forever, if only so I could chart the runaway corners of your smile, the heat of your gaze, the subtle nuances of your laughter.
There are few things I can say about you with absolute certainty, and that scares me more than you can imagine. I like fixed points and happy endings and constancy, I like being able to read books and read people and read thoughts, I like smooth-sailing journeys and calm seas. But you are a constant challenge, a rainstorm that I have never been able to dilute into words, and I can’t quite decide if I love you in spite of that, or because of that.
It is a curious thing to fall in love with someone you can never really seem to understand. Curiouser, really, when you discover that returning to a place with locked rooms full of mysteri es can still feel like going home.