Prom. There is a magic that comes with connection. An electrical surge that emanates from one being to another and reminds you that you are human. Sometimes, it feels new and exciting and unfathomable. But other times, it feels like home. It feels like grocery shopping on a Sunday afternoon. It feels like long drives through old neighborhoods, where the trees line the streets and the music transports you and the conversation never ends. It feels like the comfort of a worn sweater, cozy and familiar. That’s what you feel like to me. You feel like home.
You look at me as if there was a shift in the universe, a miniscule but verifiable change in the way that the stars align, and I wonder if this is how it is supposed to be. An organic bond fostered by a mutual understanding and respect for the variability of human nature. A love rooted in friendship.
I allowed you to see the darkest sides of myself, the parts that scared even me, that made me feel unlovable and unworthy, but I was met with kindness, compassion, and patience. A newfound response to the messiness of my life, my history.
That night, I saw what we truly could be, and it terrified me. The ease into which we fit with each other, the simplicity in merely existing within one another’s presence, the way that laughter became visceral and consuming. It was terrifying for these were all new to me. You, in this capacity, were new to me, and I could not help but think, “What if I lose you?” But then, I wondered about the inverse. I thought for a moment about what could be, I thought about the way your presence left me, as if you took a part of me with you. I thought about how you reminded me of 80s music and ice cream filled donuts and denim jackets.
You had become an integral part of my life in a way that I could have never foreseen, and now, here, you stood, doing it all, again. Being there with you, in the soft glow of colorful lights, I knew that there was no going back.
You are magic to me.
If you enjoyed this piece, be sure to check out How Much I Loved You