I keep trying to recall how we got here. I’m trying to connect the dots from the first time we met to the time we found ourselves sitting together late at night, talking about the most random things. And then I keep trying to connect those to the mornings I’d catch myself smiling first thing because I’d wake up to your good mornings. The afternoons when you would just pop up in my head, and every second when only thoughts of you would calm me down. I keep trying to connect those dots, probably in hopes that I’d end up creating a solid, beautiful picture of us.

It was random, wasn’t it? How we met. It wasn’t some guy-meets-girl-and-they-fell-in-love bullshit or a knight-in-shining-armor-rescuing-a-princess crap almost every fairy tale or romantic movie keeps shoving down our throats. There wasn’t any spell cast, or an arrow Cupid struck straight into our hearts. It was normal, boring even. It was innocent, without any hidden intention. It was human — so human it fucks me up, because how could something that normal turn into me needing you to breathe and to keep it together? How did I get to the point where I’d run only to you for safety?

How did we arrive at looking at each other like no one else mattered? How is it that you professed your feelings and I declared mine back, and suddenly the world was filled with love spells and magic and fucking happy ever after? How did we become a big part of each other’s lives, filling each other’s void? How did we become the very people we used to make fun of?

We both know how though, right? Maybe there was a smidge of intention after all when we first met and started a conversation. We needed a time-out from life, some sort of escape. We needed saving. Maybe we saw a bit of hope in each other. We both knew we were drowning in the same water, and it seemed like there was nothing left to do but grab each other’s hand to keep us afloat. We needed each other to stay alive because this world is one cruel fucker. That was it and nothing more, because we kissed and I knew right then. That kiss woke me up from my fairy tale, like a reversed spell. That kiss allowed me to snap back to reality fast, a solid reminder that you and I would never be right. We’d only drag each other deeper into the water. You and I could never weather the storm together, because we still have our own storms to weather.

That kiss made me realize that everything after that night we met was just stories in my head. You and I were just fiction — an escape — conceived by nothing but fantasy. And that kiss destroyed that fantasy and the very notion that maybe love does exist, or maybe love is all we need, or maybe love does conquer all.

I kept trying to connect those dots in hopes that I’d end up creating a solid, beautiful picture of us, but I only ever created a picture of you and me. And maybe that’s fine.