Perfect

Written 19 May 16

I don’t know where to begin because our beginning was perfect, absolutely perfect.

Maybe I could start with myself. Before we met, I was in the crushing process of repairing myself. My hands still had fresh wounds from picking up the pieces of a shattered heart. Sometimes, those wounds would bleed, causing me to drop the heart, and I would have to start all over again and get myself wounded even more. There were days when I wanted to leave it broken because it hurt to piece it back together. It felt useless, too… But on the route to giving up, I was standing in front of Van Gogh’s Starry Night on a cloudy day in New York City when you said hello. That meant something.

I was very careful in structuring our conversations. I didn’t think you’d give me a chance because based purely on looks, I’m not on your level. Also, I’ve been rejected by so many for the smallest things.

But you saw past those small things and let me feel comfortable around you.

Flash forward, clutching my favourite coffee in hand, I’m waiting in the middle of Manhattan to meet you for the first time. I arrived early, and being the over-thinker that I am, I gave myself a panic attack. What if you don’t like my date ideas? Do I even have date ideas? Yes… Fuck! I forgot to put perfume on… I have to finish this coffee faster, so I can take a mint and not have coffee breath… What if that’s a serious turn-off and you ditch me in the middle of lunch? Are you even showing u—

And there you were. You look better in person. You’re taller than I imagined you would be, and your sweet smile made my heart melt. You let me hug you. I could smell you for the first time, and my senses went nuts. I got so excited for the rest of our time together because never in 20 years did I think that someone like you would give me a chance.

The rest of our day seemed surreal. I’ve convinced myself before that life isn’t like what it is in the movies because in real life, my crushes do not show up for lunch dates; they don’t laugh at my jokes when they’re corny; they don’t let me grab their hand before crossing the street; they don’t let me steal kisses on their cheeks when we’re walking around a furniture store while discussing our alter egos; most of all, they don’t make time stop when they’re making out with me for the first time in a crowded bus terminal when we’re about to say goodbye. But you did all that for me and with me, and I am so grateful.

You’d think it was funny that a single day and a single person could change the way I believe in something, but it’s not. It feels right, so right.

by Royce

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