This Kind of Love
What I’ve realized after loving someone is that
no matter how close we are, he and I are two completely different people.
Just because of our label as a couple, or him as my significant other doesn’t mean that I have the right to demand anything from him or be disappointed at my unfulfilled expectations. But because we are different, and because we love each other, we need to constantly work on coping with each other’s differences.
I do try to understand and be compassionate, but at the end, I become a selfish person who only thinks about what he did wrong.
“Why doesn’t he understand me?
“I wouldn’t have done that if I were him.”
“I would’ve done better.”
fills my head and I start thinking about what I deserve (which I feel certainly that it’s someone better).
He stands there with his face down, apologizing for something he doesn’t understand.
But then with a pang of involuntary epiphany, I start to understand that being sad because he doesn’t understand and getting mad because he still hasn’t figured out what I want are signs of being in love.
If I wasn’t, I would care less about his way of making every fight a joke, his way of shaking his leg during morning church service, his annoying way of mimicking my voice when I get mad, and everything else in between.
Without love, there would be no anger, no tears, and the best of all, no smiles. Love paints ordinary days with extraordinary colors, and sometimes those are colors of soft pastel and sometimes they’re colors of shit, but they eventually make the perfect picture.
I bawl my eyes out with my nose red and running and my voice barely audible because I know he’s here to wipe my tears. If he weren’t here, I would quickly wipe my tears with the sleeves of my sweater and get up to get some ice cream or something.
Because I know that it hurts him as much as it hurts me, and because it moves me to see him struggle to make me happy, I try to better myself.
There are no set rules in love. Very simply, missing him when he’s not here, feeling my heart break at the mere thought of his absence, feeling safe in his arms, and suddenly feeling hungry right after we make up is the kind of love we’re in.