When did you fall in love with me?

Falling in love is odd.

To be completely honest, I don’t know if I’ve ever been in love.

I’ve loved.

For certain I’ve loved. Passionately. Deeply. Intensely. Stupidly.

But been IN love? I’m not quite sure.

I’m quick to develop intense feelings of connections with guys. It happened with my Friendationship. It happened with my Goodbye. I felt that click. When my brain shifted and made room for this other person inside of a chapter. Hoping this new character would ultimately become permanent, but never knowing how it would end or if he would metaphorically speaking be killed off.

So maybe it’s time to learn about this new process of being in love.

I think the act of being in love requires mutual love. I can love someone from afar. I can love them without ever expressing or showing that love based solely on my actions, wishes, desires, hopes, etc. Being in love requires engagement.

Not the shiny ring kind. Though, that would be nice, eh?

The kind that comes from mutually agreeing it’s time to let down our walls of shame and fear and protection and let someone inside our fortress.

Being in love requires sacrifice. Courage. Vulnerability. Selflessness.

Loving someone is partly selfish. I don’t have to actively give them a part of who I am. I can love someone without being rejected because my messy pieces aren’t tangled up in theirs. I can write our story without them ever knowing. I don’t worry about my story not being the best fit, because it’s mine and I don’t have to plan for someone else. When I am in love with someone, my plan can’t be my own. It involves the hopes, dreams, desires, wishes, and heart of someone else.

So until I get to that place – that place of knowing that the story being written doesn’t have a sole author, I don’t know if I can say I’ve ever been in love.

And I want to know how that moment happens.

Is it one specific glance where it sucker punches you in the gut?
Is it a long drive to the countryside looking at fall leaves?
Is it the moment he reached for your hand when you got scared in the movies?
Is it waking up one morning knowing she started inserting her narrative into yours?

Where does the moment of loving someone end and the in love moment begin?

How did yours begin?


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