is so very difficult, to want what you cannot have. To love who you fear you’ve already lost. They say we’re too young to know what real love is. They say we’re foolish and reckless and stupid, that we can’t make our own choices. We don’t make a proper match, they remind us. We’re too different.
But when he looks at me, I don’t feel foolish or reckless or stupid. I feel beautiful. Special. Loved.
So loved.
We are not so different after all. When we are together, we are one and the same. We are like a puzzle, each of us made up of so many varied pieces. And those pieces only make sense when we come together.