Summer's barely started for the almost new couple, and they don't think it can get any better than being together. However, the reality of life is only around the corner and they never expected that keeping a relationship healthy would be this diffi...
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It's funny, this thing that people call love. I've always wanted to believe that in it is magic and everything everlasting, but realistically it's not. Love isn't faultless. It's such a perfect word when it's portrayed elsewhere; on TV, in books, in people... but love is still a part of nature, and like everything in that category, it expires.
As humans, we can attempt to break from the bounds of nature but we can't. We scientifically do not possess the power to break the laws of the universe.
Unless of course, you find someone who makes you forget all of that. Someone who imposes you to think that love is everything you'll ever need to survive—even without food or water—throughout anything nature throws at you to destroy your faith in a perfect love. Someone who makes you believe that you can defy everything wrong with love and make it eternally great.
I'll take what I can get, and I'm going to protect that passion with everything that creates me.
Perhaps I'm in the honeymoon phase of falling in love and that overtaking emotion has indoctrinated my every sensual thought and understanding, but I don't mind it. My friends would mock me endlessly if they ever heard these thoughts inside my head, call me whipped or whatever other repelling words.
Honestly, fuck them.
Like I said, I don't care. I can only wish for them to one day, possibly, find a significant other who makes them feel this indescribable euphoria its brought me. When they find that one person who devises fireworks at the tips of their fingers, they won't be laughing at me then.
If not, that's too much of their loss. There's a peculiar fascination engraved in this emotion, and that very ineffable thing brings me a high that I can't imagine any drug to ever deliver. It may come close, but it'll never achieve the exact capacity.
That same fascination is lying next to me, tangled up in the white hotel sheets and the beauty of her long brown hair that cascades over her shoulders. She's fast asleep, although it's nearly noon and there are pieces of the sun wandering on certain parts of her face. The daytime is successfully peeking through the closed curtains, almost as if it's trying to regain her consciousness.
I raise my hand to block the light, to draw a dark shadow on her face and attempt at letting her continue her peaceful slumber. She's beautiful like that, every edge of her character carefully painted through her rested eyelashes and the lines of her tanned skin that sketched out her small and fragile figure.
Even the dreaming state of her mind transmits through the room, because everything about her reminded me of a dream; a perfect alternate universe where I sometimes believe is the only location she exists in. I want to hold her, want to take her in my arms to make sure she's real and that she never disappears.
But I don't. I keep still. I don't want to wake her.
So I just watch.
I've cursed myself to hell a long, long time ago. I've already figured myself out and accepted that I am, as a matter of fact, deeply in love with this girl. I don't know how I got here, don't know when my heart began to flutter at the sound of her laugh, nor when I sacrificed my pride to make sure that she's genuinely happy every minute of everyday. My mind can't bear a time when I don't think about her.
