I had always wanted to fall in love. To fall in love with self, and ironically to deeply be in love with someone other than self too. To fall in love with the other being with whom I could just be there, listen to for hours, laugh at some random jokes, shamelessly show the unworthy side of mine, look at his eyes and see the world of possibilities that even I couldn’t think of in reality.
To fall in love, I had thought what an ecstatic feeling, it would be, I had thought. To fall in love, to deeply fall in love. To fall in love so much that when you wake up, he is the first thought that pops up. To fall in love so deep that he walks with you even when he isn’t walking with you over that bridge, under the skyline that overshadows your thoughts. To fall in love so heavy that his words, a single word could hurt you unconditionally but to fall in love so light that it is effortless like breathing.
To fall in love, was like a dream. But to fall in love like a dream and then to wake up both light, heavy, sad, joyful, lonely, and upbeat, all at the same time is something I hadn’t anticipated. To fall in love so deeply, yet remain afloat feels like an effort, a conundrum that I don’t want to get out of. To fall in love with you is a journey of nostalgia and hopefulness, a surreal yet bewildering present.