If We Were a Movie
I’m watching a rom-com at 5 AM instead of doing homework. The leading man reminds me of you. The “mean girl” reminds me of me. In another universe we might’ve never met, never gotten together, because you’re the good guy and I am far from good. But you loved me anyway. It almost doesn’t seem fair, that a nice girl didn’t get you. The pretty, popular girl didn’t get you. I got you, and it doesn’t make any sense.
I watch these two characters fall in love. I remember the feeling well. A thanksgiving weekend spent making pizza and pasta together. You couldn’t cook, still can’t. But God you knew how to kiss me to make me want more. You still do.
As I watch them fall for each other I fall for you all over again. You are the love of my life. I will spend a lifetime falling for you, over and over. It’ll be exciting and breathless and exhausting and I will love every second. Love every time we hold hands. Love every first fight. Love every new discovery, like how I didn’t know you hated watermelon until the summer and liked pumpkin spice until the fall. You are my favorite thing to discover, to study. I could write a whole book on you.
The rom-com ends with a happily ever after. The leading man chooses the nice, smart girl, not the pretty but mean one. That is not how our story goes. In our story, there are chapters where I almost lose you, and you almost lose me. There are chapters where I’m not nice or smart.
But the difference between the rom-com and my book on you is that I am not even close to finished. I’m still writing myself in. I’m writing myself in as the girl who might not always be nice or smart but who is still deserving of you. I make mistakes in my writing. But I know that my story in yours isn’t a mistake.