Today, a man told me “Don’t be afraid of love, you have to take the risk of getting hurt if you want to fall in love. If you grow too comfortable avoiding that fear, decades will go by, and you may have missed the person you were supposed to be with.” Against my will, against my best sense, against all the voices in my head telling me I can’t fit love into my life, I don’t have the capacity to give my all to someone else, I thought of you. I thought of how you drive the car with only one hand on the wheel, as if you’re so sure of your direction you never have to think twice. Your eyes the color of ground coffee that are so warm and so alive I’m convinced I could take a sip of your gaze if I tried. Your laughter that arrives as effortlessly as the light of dawn on rooftops, liberated and joyful. Your belief that every person in this universe has a single love of their lives. The thought that maybe that person could be me. I can’t help but hope there’s some reason the fingers of God, or the stars of the galaxy, or the vibrations of our destiny, or pure, maddening chaos drew us together like planets in orbits that were destined to cross. I never needed anybody, but sometimes the rest of my moments seem to exist solely to wait for you. I never fell in love with anybody, but sometimes my thoughts circle in orbits that imitate the shape of your eyes, the curve of your lips, the hills of your grin, driving me to a sort of madness I don’t fully comprehend yet. I never believed in having a single love of your life, but when you look into my eyes and tell me you do, I almost feel the truth of it. I almost understand why people aren’t scared to choose one person to commit to for decades, for lifetimes. There is music under your tongue and when I’m with you, I feel like I’ve lived my entire life before I met you in silence. But I shiver before the sound of symphonies, and the thought that one day you may leave me to soundlessness keeps me up on some nights when my thoughts sketch the memory of your image. The fear almost makes me want to leave, to run, to feel comfortable in avoiding abandonment, burying risk. But I don’t want to spend the decades running, because even though I’m having a difficult time admitting it to myself, I’m infinitely more frightened of letting my fear of you overcome my love of you. Truthfully, I’m not sure if I love or fear you more, what I am sure of is my decades would rejoice to be filled with you, and I am ankle deep in the very thought of you. I couldn’t pass you up if I tried.