you see, when they asked me to describe love, to describe you, i thought about writing about how i was lost until i found you and how you were my water in the drought. but if i wrote about those, i would have been lying.
the thing is, darling, i was not looking for you.
i did not climb the tallest mountain and reach out for you at the top with scraped fingers and knees. i did not plunge into deep waters and risk drowning just to catch a glimpse at the beauty you were. you and i, this love, was not planned.
so when they asked me to describe this, to describe us,
i did not write about how you saved me.
instead i wrote about how i was full, how i was full before i even met you. i wrote about how i thought there was no room for anything else, but you came along and i began to pour out at the sides, making a puddle of joy on the kitchen floor.
i wrote about how you never asked me to climb a mountain for you, but rather we sat in the car and glanced at it. and then later, we drove to the shore and barely touched our toes to the sea.
you see, when they asked me to describe love, to describe you, i thought about writing about how you changed me. instead i wrote about how you loved me the way i was, and how i loved you even when i thought i did not need to.