everything i know about love

love knocked on my door again when i least expected it. it was raining that day—thick, torrential, and so unrelenting that i almost missed it entirely. i hadn't seen it in months, but there love stood, drenched and muddy, waiting for me to let it in. 

love had never left me gently before. never when i was ready, and always taking so much more than i thought i could bear. whether love left suddenly, pulling the rug from under my feet, or quietly—in ways i didn't notice until it was all gone, it had always left insurmountable grief in its wake. 

love unravelled in the eyes of every partner who had ever tried to love me, before realising they could not turn a ruin into a relic. love became lost in translation every time my mother glossed over my bruises with the sweetness of cut-up fruit instead of apologies, pressing me to her blade and mistaking my blood for forgiveness. love forced me to say a thousand small goodbyes as recognition slowly faded from my grandma's eyes—until i no longer had any place in her world, nor the vietnamese words to remind her. 

so i came to only know love to be the prelude to collapse. for the longest time, i couldn't look anyone in the eyes without bracing myself for how i might one day lose them. i didn't think it was worth letting love in when it was destined to leave anyway.

but still.... i watched love linger outside of my home. insisting on it for days, even after i had finally given up on its return. and in my hesitation, love began to creep into my periphery—into the soft nooks and crannies that i'd never thought to look. birds chirping in their own unintelligible language, the cascade of light through my stained glass window that unfailingly lit up every morning, comfortable silences that never demanded anything but my presence. the new dawn paid me little heed as it bustled all around me, so i took a chance, and i let love in, scared.  

this time, love had eyes like pools of molten gold—brown at first glance, but hazel when lingered upon. love had gentle hands that crumbled my walls effortlessly, and love gazed at my darkness like it was beautiful simply because it was mine. love lined the tear-stricken eyes of proud friends, the callouses in my father's hands that had worked their whole life to give me the world, and every sunset that never failed to hold me after a day had been unkind. 

before i knew it, love became a frequent, avid visitor—the promise of a new beginning despite each time it had to end. love was hiding in plain sight all along, and began to blossom in forms that i would recognise, and even in ones i couldn't. and i realised that it could exist without collapsing, if only i stopped waiting for it to leave. because love would never really leave, as long as it existed within me.

so i chose myself gently, again, and again, until love turned into a habit. so that even when i couldn't always see it, i felt love everywhere.  

by Louise T