I was in love once.
Falling for someone is exactly how it sounds: A complete absence of control. One second, you've got two feet planted on solid ground. The next, you're sucked back down to your knees-- mouth dry, stomach knotted, spiraling until you forget what it's like to stand. It's exhilarating. It's frightening. It's gravity at its best.
I was in love once.
My parents weaned me on individuality. Miss Independent, vulnerability has never been a favorite of mine. And then I fell hard. Love gave life to my my fortified sense of romance. First came attraction, then came surrender.
I once was helplessly in love.
It crushed, it tore, it burned. It was beauty, it was brokenness, it was sustenance. And in the end, it mourned.
I was in love. Once.
Thriving on sass and scoffing at convention, I embraced sovereignty with a flourish. I was the girl who grew up too fast. Now, I'm a woman confused, still choking on regret and bad timing.
I was in love once. But my heart's still beating, so I'm moving on.
