There was a girl I loved, in a way I can’t really express in words. More than just pretty, beautiful, stunning; she was light itself, curving around galaxies to catch my eye. She had the kind of voice where you never deleted her voicemails – no matter what she had to say, it was something I wanted to live. I never felt like I had to pretend, so I would say every joke that would come to mind, and she would laugh with me and laugh at me. For the first time in my life I could smile to myself, knowing someone adored my terrible British accent and was impressed with my encyclopedic knowledge of all things Hayao Miyazaki.
Not every moment was perfect; fights happened, and we both cried, tore up our throats as we woke up every neighborhood stray, went to bed after a sunrise wishing we could take back those words, as if they were accidents. Words are deliberate, and nothing can be erased, but everything can be fixed. So maybe we weren’t always perfect, but every moment, the highs and the lows, as long as they were with her it was still magical.
Perhaps I’m placing those feelings onto high a pedestal, and maybe I’m just seeing things in rose-tinted glasses, but even knowing everything I do now, with 20/20 hindsight, I wouldn’t change the course of my life – Because if I did, I probably never would have met her, and everything else could have ended up the same regardless. So even knowing how this ends, I would still pick her all over again…I’d pick her over me Every. Single. Time.