You Saved Me.

The plain truth is that you saved me.

The past five months could have very well turned out to be a disaster. I could’ve been cursing you in my mind right now. I could’ve been listening to Taylor Swift’s fantastically heartbreaking songs right now to relate with them, not to appreciate them. I could be alone. 

But strangely, quite amusingly, I’m not. Instead I remember your scent when you’re not even physically here, and the way you look as you sleep and I try not to wake you but wake you at the same time. And instead I think—five months, and you’re here. And I’m happy.

We’re building castles together, building dreams that are worth their weight in reality in my mind. I am starting to believe that you might be the one… No, wait. I actually do believe that you’re the one.

It’s a scary feeling, free-falling. You know he’s probably there to catch you, you know that it’s perfectly fine and safe. But you’ve fallen before, and where did that leave you? In the past you’d always believed the love you were living was right, but it always turned out wrong. What difference does this one more “try” make?

And then you start to count the ways how.

Because we could be lying on bed all day. We could be fighting all night. We could be having round after round of Korean lunch. We could be anywhere, whenever. And it would not even matter, because you’re here, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  I wouldn’t trade the feeling of being with this someone for anything in this world. 

I’m scared. I’m really scared.

But fuck it, I’ve never been this happy.