i thought you were the first; not the only. i thought being in love with you was how dating was supposed to work. i thought you felt this way about everyone you went on a date with. saying i love you a month into knowing each other, for me, was "normal". i thought love came and went with everyone with whom time was spent.

this wasn't the case.

i'm walking down the street with this new boy next to me and internally i'm groaning. he's rich as heck and sure he's not the best looking but he seems ok. he isn't boring but i'm so bored. he isn't annoying but i'm so annoyed. i don't want to be here, in a tesla in sunny california. i feel nothing for him and i don't want his lips on mine. his perfume smells good but i don't want him on my skin. i don't want him.

i don't want him.

he calls me in the middle of the night and asks if i want to go on an adventure. i love adventures. i love late nights under the stars when nothing is holding you back. i love being alive and feeling like life isn't over just yet. i tell him i'm tired. i go to bed. i sleep. i don't want to have an adventure with him because it feels forced and unnatural. i don't want to dance in the rain or smoke under the falling leaves. i don't want to hold his hand or talk to him about philosophy.

i don't love him.

i thought i'd fall in love with him or the other him or the one after him but heck, i'm not falling in love at all. these are just bodies with beautiful souls that do not connect to mine. perhaps i haven't given them the space to touch my heart, spirit, and mind. or perhaps me and you were a one-off. maybe you were the one for me. the one that got away. i could see myself marrying you. i always knew i could raise daughters, but with you, i could see myself raising a son.

where do i go from here?

when i think of home i think of you standing by the bed with your pajama pants on. i think of my curly hair and bare legs. i think of your oversized shirts and my pink tanktop. i think of the mundane things that felt like heaven. home is your new haircut. home is your old shoes. home is laying in your lap. home is you.