the morning after we first met, i woke up frowning. one would think after meeting the soon to be, ‘the love of your life,’ you’d wake up with a smile. but no, i woke up with a frown because for the first time in weeks, i didn’t wake up in the middle of the night.
the morning after our first date, i noticed i slept with my windows open. and i couldn’t understand how a person like me, who cannot sleep with the thought of someone breaking in when she’s sleeping, had left the window open.
the morning after our second date, i realized i was not alone. you were there, sleeping on the makeshift bed beside mine. and i was confused how you stayed because i had promised myself that i would never let another boy stay the night because they never know how to react to the fact that this girl has nightmares of people that she met when she was 11, and even though they didn’t leave any bad memories, she still gets nightmares.
the afternoon after you said, ‘i love you,’ i wrote. i wrote after 3 months, and it wasn’t even you i wrote about, it was everything you felt like. and for the first time, it was nothing sad and for a person who has always written about incomplete endings, you brought out this weird part of me that wrote about happy things. (not sure if i’m okay with it)
the morning after our first anniversary, you were beside me, drooling in your sleep, thankfully you didn’t snore. there was a basket of cheese popcorn (that we never got to finish because we were busy, watching tv of course) and a vase of yellow roses. that confused me because yellow meant friendship. i woke you up with a, “do you not know yellow means friendship, you smart arse,” and naturally, you told me to shut up. lazily, you got up and dropped something in the vase. and slowly, the once yellow roses turned red. you turned with a smirk, “we started off as friends, didn’t we?” I responded with a facepalm and a tiny laugh.
the morning after you first moved in, i woke up to the smell of something burning, something vaguely similar to pancakes or waffles. you half-burnt my kitchen but it’s okay, i would have probably done the same therefore it’s okay. i kinda just love you a little too much so it’s okay.
the morning after our first big argument or the morning after we painted our room or the morning after our first breakup or the morning after our second first anniversary; i had come to terms with the fact that whatever ever happens, there are always good parts and I’ll wait for those, I’ll wait.
(i feel very weird about this writing, i don’t know) (and what even is this photo omg!!)