You Can’t Make Lists About Love

I want someone who will watch sappy movies with me, holding me as I cry over the protagonist’s latest heartbreak, and laughing quietly because I can’t handle all the feels.

I want someone to wake up to in the morning, so I can watch how adorable they are with their bleary eyes and ruffled hair. Someone who won’t mind that my hair gets tangled in every possible manner while I sleep, or that I steal all the blankets because I have a tendency to latch onto whatever keeps me warm.

I want someone who’ll cook breakfast for me, or laugh while I try to cook breakfast for them, and who’ll eat the food even if I burn it, which I probably will.

I want someone to go to the beach with me, because they understand how much I love the sea, how it can free me like nothing else can. Someone to hike with, to swim with, to explore the furthest corners of the earth with.

I want someone who isn’t afraid to travel, to drop everything to go on an adventure, to face the changes that life brings, to taste the different cultures and soak up all the new experiences.

I want someone who will tell me to slow down, to take a deep breath and enjoy life as it comes and goes, to let go of all my responsibilities for once, to remember that I’m only human and there’s only so much I can possibly do in this life, but who also understands my need to do anything and everything, my need to keep busy, my fear of missing out on my youth and my life and my opportunities, because they feel the same way.

I want someone who knows my ever-changing moods, who keeps quiet when I just want silence, who brings me chocolate when I need it and takes it away when they know I need to stop. Someone who’s happy when I’m happy and understands when I’m sad. Someone who knows when I need cheering up and when I need to be left alone.

I want someone who knows me deeply, who sees that I’m not perfect, that I have my flaws and my vices and my insecurities, and loves me anyway. Someone who sees the darkest parts of me and doesn’t shy away. Someone who’s not perfect, because no one on in this world is. Someone who is maybe as unstable and obsessive and needy as I am. Someone who accepts me for who I am, because I love them for who they are, the bright parts and the sad parts and all. I want someone to love me, forever and always, because that’s how long I will love them.

I’ve been told I’m too picky; I’ve been told that there’s no way someone can possibly satisfy all of these conditions, that there’s no way someone can cross all of these qualities off my list.

But in the end, lists don’t matter. Who you think you want doesn’t matter. In the end, you don’t choose who you fall in love with. You just fall, and if you’re lucky, they’ll love you enough to catch you. And that’s the only thing you need.