how do you know when it’s love?
is it from the quickening of heartbeats? skin tingling as his fingers brush yours? the desperate yearning to constantly be talking to this person? the idea of what we could be? the dream of what it is?
how do i know it’s love?
as i embrace this new relationship, and your new relationship with eyes wide open, there is this abstract fear that maybe i’m just wasting my time. there’s this painful ache that leaves me wondering if maybe i let you go too easily. that maybe i didn’t try hard enough. what if you are the one?
i loved you the way i’ve never loved before. i loved you beyond what i thought i was capable of. clearly it wasn’t reciprocated, and i can’t help the resentment that follows through. the insecurities that pervade; that maybe if i wasn’t good enough for you, i might not be good enough for another.
but he tells me he loves me and i believe him. except that… it feels like a burden.
i feel old and tired and i can’t remember if this is what i felt like with you too.
in my head, you’ve become an idol. a statue of absolute and utter perfection. i know that isn’t true because i remember bitter arguments and utter desolation and feeling completely alone. but in my head, you’ve become this figure of absolute love, that i’m not quite sure i know what love is anymore.
i had no doubt that you loved me. but what i’m starting to doubt is whether i loved you. and scarier is the ever invasive question of whether or not i love him. because you’re supposed to know when you know, and i thought i knew.
only now i’m not so sure.