We say that love is an emotion we can’t describe. We said it to our moms when we were kids, yet we are told that we are too young to understand what love is. To me it was in all the little things. When she made pancakes every once and still managed to burn them each time because she was dancing to the music.
Or how she would just stop mid-sentence to tell me about her newest thought. When she would talk about how she was messed up, when all I could see was an interesting person. Or how her face would light up when your name was mentioned. That’s the kind of love I knew, the one-sided one. I never paid attention to anyone besides her. And that’s what fucked me up. Because she only had eyes for you.