When I was a freshman, we read Romeo and Juliet.
My teacher asked us, “Do you think this is love?”
I looked her straight in the face.
“Of course it is.”
She laughed. “This is not true love.
“This is what happens when teenagers have too many hormones.
“What they experienced was not love, love is shown through years.
“Love is shown through deeds through those years.
“Love is what you have after the good feelings leave,
“And the years you have make it all worth while.”
I wanted to scream at her, but I kept my composition.
Instead of saying anything, I bit my tongue, and remained in silence.
Then someone amongst us spoke up.
“I believe that it was true love.”
A young woman looked up at our teacher.
“I believe that it was true love because they sacrificed themselves
For each other.”
The teacher scoffed. “That’s not love. That’s stupidity.”
And with that, the lecture continued.

It only took me a week to tell you that I loved you.
And I meant it, completely and thoroughly.
“Don’t say that, Makana”
“I’ll say it if I mean it, and I do.”

It’s been one year, eight months, and three days.
And we’re still here. Now you can say, “I love you” back to me.
Now we know more about each other than anyone else in our lives.
I’ve shared my darkest secrets and my most ridiculous thoughts.
Together, we’ve cried, we’ve laughed, and I know that I love you.
It took me only a week to know that I love you.

And I don’t regret anything about it.