When you have love, never let it go. Never give up. That’s fire. Never lose the fire. That edge should stay there every day. Wake up with butterflies knowing she’s yours. Go to bed knowing she’ll be there when you wake up. Fucking dream of them every night. Tell her you love her every minute because you never know if she might leave. Kiss her hard. Kiss her softly. Hold her hand. She said she loves that. And when she tells you she has a problem or a story of something tragic or sad about her life, just fucking listen. That’s all she needs. Nod and agree. Get angry when she gets angry. When she asks if you love her, you assure her always. Don’t fucking play games. It will only end badly.
Don’t ever give up. Don’t ever ever ever let her go.
You might make mistakes. You will fuck up. But love is worth fighting for. Love is everything. Don’t just let her walk away. You call her and text her and email her and fucking write her a letter and you make it happen. You write her this stupid shitty essay hoping she reads it and the words are just words but it’s really meant to be me screaming through the page telling her “Take me back!” or “I fucked up!” or “I want you and only you so don’t leave me no not yet not like this not fucking ever you fucking kidding me not until you hear this!” because when you have something greater than anything you ever wanted, you fucking go after it. Don’t take her love for granted. You’ll crumble. You’ll screw yourself. You’ll lose her. Hopefully, she forgives you. But she won’t. She’ll walk away.
But fight. Fight with everything you’ve got. Don’t ever give up. Don’t ever.
You’ll miss her and want to kiss her or hear her laugh one more time or see a picture of her and think of her in that black dress or her in sweats or without makeup and her hair in a bun and you’ll miss it all and the late night phone calls until 3 in the morning and you’ll cancel dinner plans you had with friends and you’ll think of her when you work out or when you’re on a run or when you’re at work and you come across a familiar scent when you first fell in love with her and that’s pain. That’s sadness and heartbreak and that’s her telling you no. That’s heartache, that feeling in your chest that feels like you can’t breathe. Your head will feel light. You can see but you’re not really looking. Your body feels tired and drunk and high and low. You are talking but you’re not really speaking. So remember her. Remember how it all felt. What burned in your soul. Remember that feeling and hide it in box. In a closet. When you get lonely, remember when you were happy with her. But you fight first. You fight until the end.
Love is so fucked up, but it is so fucking sweet isn’t it?
Because she is it. She is the one.
She is the one you want to marry. She is the one you want to live with forever in a tiny 1 bedroom apartment in Brooklyn or Los Angeles or Paris or fucking Idaho it doesn’t matter. She’s the one you want to have cute little chubby Asian babies with and raise them to be artists. She is the one you want to grocery shop with or do laundry together with or introduce your brother to and she is the one that made you eat more vegetables. She is everything. She is your best friend next to your brother. She is number 2. But she is really number 1.
She is both. She is it. She is the fire.
So never lose the fire.