We're all either made of cells or stories, but in your case, it's both. You're somehow bigger than what one body can contain. And I know that all of this all these words and breaths and spaces aren't enough to explain you. You're better than any fiction will ever be.
I remember sitting in the passenger seat of your car, watching the familiar city streets flick by, fast like a picture book. It felt like there was something I was missing between the pages and second story houses, but I couldn't place it. I had my arms wrapped tight around my middle, holding my insides in since I was afraid with every passing moment I would let their contents spill. You wouldn't look at me, but you kept talking. For the first time ever, I wished you would stop. You were telling me that you could never love me and I was completely aware that I had already foolishly followed you in too deep and now you were letting me know that you had been drowning for years. You were promising to take me under. You were promising to let me go. You didn't know how to love with a broken heart so you would break mine instead. Neither of us were equipped to breath underwater since evolution had only taken us so far. Sitting in your passenger seat, hunched over with my secrets nearly spewing from my lips, I wanted nothing more than to be evolved past all this. I wanted to learn how to love without losing. I wanted to learn how to unlive the past. Hell, I just wanted you to learn to love me. I was sure you could. I was sure you did. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe.
It was the second Thursday of the month and I had known you for weeks now. I started counting the minutes since they seemed precious. I was going to lose you, and there was nothing I could do about it. I should have been used to it. I should've known that the second that I learn to love something, I should be prepared to say goodbye to it. But I felt lucky when I met you and lucky when I got to have you and lucky when you were my own. I didn't think that luck would run out. But it did. I couldn't help thinking about how unfair it is to spend one hundred days doing the same thing only to find out on the hundred and first day that you've been doing it wrong all along. That's what falling in love with you felt like. And I know that you'd tell me that one hundred days isn't a long time but it takes less than a third of that to form a habit and you're not an easy one to break.
I remember the first time you told me you loved me your breath was so heavy with alcohol that I could hear it pulsing through your veins, hot and loud like fire. This was thirteen days after the car ride that started with you telling me you couldn't love me and ended with me begging you to stay. That night your lips found mine in the dark and I could feel the desperation. The fear of trying to keep something so fragile alive. But here you were less than two weeks later with lips that were spilling I love yous instead. I told you that you didn't mean it, because you had forgotten the way the word was supposed to taste wrapped up in your mouth. Salty like the ocean and soft like rain. But I wouldn't forget the way that sentence sounded for a long time. I loved it. I loved you.
I left your house an hour ago. It took me 9 minutes and twenty three seconds to drive home. I know because I timed it. I timed it because the only way I can get to sleep is by knowing that it'll take less than ten minutes for you to be at my door if I need you. I'm already seconds away from picking up the phone and calling you just to say that I miss you. That's how I know I love you, because every minute you're not there, I ache for you. It's as if you've folded over the edges of my heart, easy and quick like the pages of book, as if you're saving your place. As if I could ever lose it to begin with.
Last night you asked me why I never write about you. It's because I realized there's never going to be another person quite like you. No amount of cleverly placed adjectives or descriptive syllables are going to be able to recreate a smile like yours or the way you laugh or hum when you're happy. There aren't enough words to describe the way you idly kiss my head when I'm lying in your arms, like it's second nature. Like I was made to fit there and there's no amount of thought that will stop you from holding me closer. I never realized how wrong everything I ever felt before was until I met you.