Being in Love

Love is a feeling that is indescribable. It's like soaring through the sky, your wings spread wide and free like that of a bird's, on a clear and beautiful day over a city with thousands of lights. It's like running through a field and feeling the wind blow through your hair and hitting your face as you race by. It's like waking up after having the most wonderful of dreams, and nothing during the day can stop you from smiling until you return to a blissful sleep later in the evening. You want to find the words for it, but none can possibly be enough to express what you feel in these moments. It's the same with love--as cliche as that sounds--and it's one of the greatest things to feel in your lifetime. It's more than lust. More than joy. More than anything else. All I've desired since I was a child was love, to fall in love and stay in it, and after so long I have to come realize that I'm experiencing just that. After years of disappointment, misery, rejection, heartbreak, and loss I have fallen in love once more and I couldn't be happier. In the mornings I wake up and go on with my dreadful day, dressing myself and doing early chores, before leaving the rest to my siblings. As I walk out the door I am stressed by the potential of missing my bus and having to wait nearly half an hour before the next can arrive. I sneer at the others on the bus, men and women and children alike who exchange a similar dirty glance with me, before taking my seat (typically in the rear) and wait to arrive at my stop, ignoring all around me as I stare out the window with my earbuds blasting at full volume to block them out. I arrive at the stop and quickly jump onto the second bus, repeating the same process again, before getting off and walking to my school. I stand before the doors for some time waiting for him to arrive, disappointed each time I look up at a new arrival only to see a stranger I barely converse with or a close acquaintance I normally do not speak to, until finally I see him approach. Feeling the heat rise to my face I turn my head and pretend I saw not a thing. I don't want him to know I expected him to arrive. He then suddenly hugs me, greeting me with a simple "hello" typically, before returning to his group of friends I saw come earlier. I wait until they open the doors for the day to begin smiling to myself for a brief moment. Lunch later arrives and I come up from the staircase, out of breath and exhausted beyond belief. I take a break at our table before watching him intently as he jokes about. Each time he glances back I turn my head once more, pretending to find the sky outside far more interesting than the remaining morons in the cafeteria. He then takes a seat next to me and pulls me close to himself, and I am content once more. The day then ends and we walk side-by-side together to the bus. I have recently been walking him to his building to spend just some more time with him before I head back to the hell my family calls home, where food is scarce among us and my mother works too long to notice the little things anymore. We are forced to be our own caretakers in a house where only half are old enough to do things on their own while the rest must wait for our mother to return late in the evening. I occasionally come up with him and join his family when I have enough time before taking my leave back home. Despite what I expect to find as I walk into that door to the right on the 10th floor, I keep the smile I wear around him in hopes it'd help get me through the afternoon until my blissful sleep numbs my sorrows once again. This man has made me feel more than my family, friends, and interests ever could. This man has given me enough reason to keep breathing every single day. He gives me reason to smile, to laugh, to just enjoy my life as it is. This is something I have not felt in years, and I never want it--or him--to leave me again. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. I want us to go on through our college years together, perhaps not in the same school, and come out stronger than we were before. I want us to achieve our dreams, get married, make the sweetest moments of love later in the night, have a loving home and family, grow old together until we both die peacefully, and just move past the pain we endured as children as two souls unite into one beating heart that goes on into forever--a single eternal flame that never burns out. Yet, at the same time, I have an unrelenting fear that he'd grow bored. He'd find me disgusting, childish, and leave me for another. While I will not stop him from perusing his dreams and wants the pain will still be there. The pain I felt so long ago when I had lost my dear Tony, and when I heard my lover had slept with my dearest friend nearly a year ago, will be there again, and I fear that I will not survive it this time. Being in love is the greatest feeling one can ever have. Yet, it comes at a painful price. Can I truly ever pay it?

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Andre

IT Student passionate about writing

Kyiv, Ukraine