TELL ME SOMETHING

I can’t tell our story the way you would tell a regular story, so I’m going to tell it in moments:

I remember exactly how it started. It was just another spring day, the sun was shining and the sky was still.

I remember the first time he spoke to me. With a shaky voice, clammy hands, and a burning red face, I uttered my first hello.

I remember the first time I was alone with him. Collected on the outside but on the inside every single atom exploding into fluttery butterflies, trembling through my body.

I remember when our bodies met each other for the first time. A brisk brush of our shoulders but it felt eternal.

I remember the first time we held hands. Walking into the movies, side by side, mid-conversation, he grabbed my hand and locked it with his; our fingers intertwined.

I remember the first time we kissed. Everlasting. My heart pounded against my chest like a hammer against lumber; as his lips lightly, and very softly, touched mine.

I remember our first date. Infatuated, I never wished for anything more, but for this, to last forever.

I remember the first time I heard her name. My body became dense, there’s no other word to describe it. I don’t know how nobody could hear my heart pounding. They told me she was his first love, the one he always went back to every summer. Embarrassed, betrayed, and enraged I questioned why he made me feel all these things if he loved someone else. To this day, I will never understand why he wasn’t the one to tell me about her and why he didn’t tell me from the beginning. It was too late for me to just let go of him.

I remember when we realized our music taste was indistinguishable. We would talk for hours about Miguel and Outkast, but mostly Chance, and never once would hear the slightest bit of silence.

I remember his love for my dog. He always saw the charm in what I couldn’t and showed me how to see it too. He has a way of doing that. His heart is so big, so kind.

I remember when he imitated the intro to “Roses”, by Outkast, on our way to the condo. Watching him from the passenger seat, appreciation overwhelmed my body. In that moment, he was his complete and whole self. He was perfect.

I remember the first time I heard his heartbeat. My head resting upon his chest, I listened closely to the puzzle of the beat. After what seemed like a second, but was really minutes, I looked up at him. My neck stretched upward to face his head, our eyes met and I said, “I can hear your heartbeat”. Our eyes didn’t unmeet until seconds passed and I laid my head back to listen more. Every time I laid with him, from that point on, when words didn’t need to be spoken, and a lot of the time they didn’t, I would set my head on his chest and listen.

I remember meeting his family. I remember him meeting my family. Shaking of the hands of each of our parents, they knew instantly seeing us together would be a regular sight.

I remember every time I called him weird. Although he would get mad at first, he began to realize it was my way of saying that I love him.

I remember how good he was with my baby sister. He loved her, sometimes it almost felt like I needed to compete with her for his attention. The things she did that would irritate me, would put a smile on him that spread from one ear to the other. When he was with her he forgot about the world for a second.

I remember the strange desire he had to get into our first fight. He would always say he couldn’t wait and when I asked why, without hesitation he would say, “because I can’t wait to make up with you. To see your smile again and to hear your laugh again”.

I remember the countless weeks I felt a never ending, anxious discomfort in my chest at the thought of losing him to her. With summer approaching and still not having had the talk about her with him, I spent those days and nights in tears. He made my heart explode into a trillion pieces every time I was graced with his presence. In all the right ways, he showed me the good things in life. He made me grow when I was at a standstill. The happiness these moments with him brought me were boundless. I wasn’t ready to lose that and he was afraid of it losing it too.

I remember how we could look into each other's eyes for what seemed like years. I could never look at anyone in the eyes for more than 2 seconds until I met him. With no uncomfort or insecurity, he became my home.

I remember how whenever I was driving he would always rub my shoulder, gentle with warmth. I couldn’t help but smile, and he noticed every time.

I remember the night he finally told me about her. It was just another night with him. On the way home from the movies, the endless and piercing silence was broken. I looked at him and didn’t see him. Every word coming from his perfectly structured mouth was like a knife stabbing my, now, hardly beating heart. My ears forgot how to hear in that instance; my eyes, forgot how to see. It was like my body was doing everything in its power to shut off what he was saying. I didn’t think a body could feel that much pain; that much numbness.

I remember waking up in his arms; one of my most favorite memories. I can still feel his arms.

I remember the first time we went to The Maze and I remember the last time we went to The Maze. The difference between those two days is beyond words.

I remember how I would always say “tell me something.” It became our thing. The way we would say I love you to each other.

I remember when we got back together. Knowing we only had two weeks before she came, we started counting our days. “He gave me a forever in the numbered days”.

I remember the moment I realized I was in love with him. I swear a tiny universe was growing inside of me. It was on our last day. We laid in silence on the long, damp grass underneath the arc of vines in The Maze. His arms were around me, the way I desired, and my head, tenderly against his chest. Our breathing became one swift breath, together. Without words being spoken, we knew what the other was thinking. He told me he almost cried, I never told him I did.

I remember our last goodbye. I’ve always thought goodbyes are this vast, dramatic thing with soliloquies being spoken from each person until finally their time is up. But our goodbye wasn’t. Across from our favorite place, in the parking lot of the airport, stood his broad back over my body. I was leaning against my car with every part of me grasping onto this moment. This silence was deafening. As we looked into each other's eyes for the last time and prepared for our last kiss, this moment was the end of a dream and a beginning of a nightmare. All he said was, “Bye”. It slipped off his tongue and through his sad lips, like he had been practicing. The moment that last word was said, was the moment the worst pain of my life began. I’m still waiting for it to end.

I remember what happened to me when he left; how I handled it. Misery is an understatement. The memories of him uncontrollably circled my brain like a merry go round. Everything I use to love was now squeezed to hatred by his hands. The remembrance of him lied with every object, every place, every song, everything. He was still everywhere, but he wasn’t here.

I remember the moment I knew I had lost him for good. I felt us becoming strangers. When I saw him with her, this feeling, indescribable. My heart sank so low I swear my breathing almost stopped. I guess one person just always loves the other person more. It burns my heart, every waking moment, knowing that he loves someone else. But then I have to remind myself that sometimes love is about letting go.

If there's one thing I learned from falling in love with him, ever so tragically, it’s that no happiness comes without some sadness. “You cannot protect yourself from sadness without protecting yourself from happiness.” Nothing lasts forever and it’s better to give yourself that little infinity of bliss and feel the pain that comes with it, then to never feel the joy at all. Or you’ll always wonder what could’ve been and wish you let yourself be vulnerable so you could find out. With every memory, I made a choice. Some were most definitely not the right ones, but I wouldn’t take back these choices. They will die with us, as they should.

I could watch him for a lifetime. I could kiss him for eternities. I could hold him until the end of time. I could love him forever. And I will love him forever. Because how do you forget the best moments of your life? You don’t. You made those choices for some reason. You remember every word, every look, every kiss, every moment. You don’t forget. You can’t forget. No matter how bad it hurts, you still remember.

This is why he is my most favorite wrong choice that will forever feel so right.

I hope I’m his too.