It seems to always happen. You are going about your life when suddenly you meet someone who makes your world a little bit more colorful and shiny. And suddenly, you’re falling so hard that you can’t even control it. You can’t stop it.
But of course, it always seems to happen at the wrong time.
I fell deeply in love at the ripe age of seventeen. For a year, everything was like out of a movie scene. I felt the butterflies and the sparks every damn day. I felt like I was on top of the world, and I couldn’t stop flying.
I fell in love for the first time. And I thought it would be my last time. Of course, I was naive. I was only seventeen. I didn’t know much of anything. Except for that the love I felt for him was real.
I truly thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with this boy. I truly thought that our souls were one in the same. I was so sure of it. I was so sure of him and I. I was so sure that we would make it.
But life is a funny thing. And life sent me through hell.
The boy that I loved had to move to another country. Not a different city or a different state. A different country. And I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t do anything to turn my world back around.
He left in August, after a year or spending every day with me. I didn’t sleep for days. I felt physically sick. I was so broken. But I was convinced that still, we would make it. Because that’s what love makes you do. It makes you think and do crazy things.
And it makes you believe in it, even when it’s with the wrong person.
We continued our relationship for two more years going back and forth between plane tickets and buses and airports.
At twenty-one I was STILL convinced he was the one. But then he told me no. He told me the distance was too much. He told me the timing was all wrong.
I had spent the last three years thinking he was the man I was going to walk down the aisle towards. I had spent three years thinking that we were on the same page. I had spent three years truly believing he was my soulmate.
But life taught me an important lesson. Maybe it isn’t the timing that breaks people apart. Maybe it isn’t the challenges or the distance. Maybe we were only meant to love them for a certain amount of time. Maybe we were made to give our hearts to more people, instead of just one.
So it wasn’t that the timing was wrong, like I used to think.
He was wrong for me. I was wrong for him. We were wrong. The timing had nothing to do with it. And I think I was only meant to love him for a little while. So I could open up my heart to other people. To other kinds of love.
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