This is something that crossed my mind... oh probably a couple of months ago, but I've been thinking about it more and more.... so here it goes:
At 13, I thought I knew what love was.
It was fairy tales and happy endings. It was blue eyes and sillyness.
At 16, I thought I knew what love was.
It was flirting and possible dates-going to the movies and such. It was blue eyes and soccer.
At 18, I thought I knew what love was.
It was comfortable. It was blue eyes, a somewhat shared taste in music, and a shared faith.
At 19, I know what love is.
It's messy and unfair. Your heart pounds, you get the most stupid, cheesy smile on your face and it doesn't go away. You want the best for him, even if it's not you. You cheer for him and his achievements are like yours. You laugh at his flaws and goofyness, but you love them at the same time. You think about him day and night. You spend a lot of time crying- a lot of time, because you can't have him. It's still blue eyes, sillyness, soccer, a somewhat shared taste in music, and it's a somewhat shared faith. It's everything that you've ever liked in the ones before, all in one.
That is what love is.
If only I had found it before, in someone I could actually have. But I didn't. I found it in you... And I know that you and I, you and I, will never be.
