if I hadn’t fallen before, I was completely smitten that summer
sophmore year came to a close, but it was just the beginning for us. we spent every single day of that summer on the phone. from the moment we woke up, we were texting each other throughout the day. as soon as 9oclock hit and our minutes were free, we’d call one another and talk until one of us fell asleep – everything felt right with you. I loved the nights that you fell asleep before you because the first thing you’d say was ‘you wore me out last night’. it didn’t take long before we had a handful of cute little inside jokes and code words to add to the mix. honestly, though, my favorite moments were the mornings when I would wake up & you would still be there. listening to me sleep like a creep, but I loved it. the grogginess in your voice as you whispered good morning in response to mine, that soft, endearing laugh you’d give me when I called you weird for still being there, all the while filled with happiness that you liked me enough to still be there. I didn’t realize there was anyone in this world that I could talk to endlessly and never run out of things to say. I learned so much about you and told you so much about myself that I had never told anyone. you listened and you understood. even when I started telling you the deepest, darkest parts of myself, you never once passed judgment on me; you appreciated me for everything that I was.
you were my best friend.
and in turn, you opened up to me in ways the people that knew you best told me you never would. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you for giving me a version of yourself you’d never given to anyone else. we were ‘the first’ for one another in a lot of aspects (stay tuned for all that juiciness) but giving me all of you is the one I’m most thankful for. in a way, I fed off of your vulnerability, it gave me the courage to open up in a way I thought I never would again after I lost my brother. his death reopened wounds I thought had healed and created new wounds I was sure would kill me. it may sound a little sadistic, but I’ve always thought that it was all fate. without my brother’s death, I don’t know if the story of us would be this story — it is chaotic beauty embodied — I honestly don’t want to know any other version of our love story. this one was perfect exactly how it was, despite the way it all ended, I believe this is how it was meant to be. if I hadn’t been sure about my feelings for you, and yours for me, that summer solidified everything we both knew, but didn’t dare say. our connection was undeniable, so why didn’t we just tell each other how we felt? why did it take so long for us to take the next step?
guess we’ll chalk it up to stupid teenage love.