Love || 24 Auguest
Love is ridiculous. I’ve said it before, and I’ll repeat it. It’s stupid, unnecessary, messy, and yet somehow the only thing I can’t get enough of. Everyone acts like they understand it, as if it were some simple instruction manual. It’s not. It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t care about sense. It doesn’t care about me pretending I’m untouchable, or you pretending you don’t know the effect you have.
I hate being vulnerable. I hate it with every part of me. weirdly, with you I can’t. I don’t get a choice. A text from you can make me forget everything I thought I knew about myself. A laugh from you can stop me mid-step and make me feel like I’m floating even when my head tells me I should be grounded. And don’t think I’ll tell you that. I’ll make a joke. I’ll roll my eyes. I’ll act like I don’t care. But inside, it’s chaos. A mess I can’t, and don’t want to, fix.
Love is not fireworks. It’s not grand gestures or dramatic declarations. It’s the small things that no one notices. It’s the way you say a single word, and it echoes in my chest. It’s the way you move in a room and somehow pull all my attention to you without meaning to. It’s knowing that something so simple, so ordinary, can mess me up in ways I didn’t think possible. I try to fight it. I tell myself it’s nothing. But it’s everything. And I hate that too, because it makes me feel weak.
And yes, I’ll keep my sarcasm. I’ll mock love, the concept, the word itself. I’ll act like it’s a scam. I’ll tell myself I’m smarter than it. But I’m not. You’ve already broken every rule I made for myself. You’ve slipped into all the cracks I thought were untouchable. And I don’t want to fix it. I don’t want to stop it. I’ll take the stupidity, the confusion, the fear, because it’s with you. And that’s the only thing that matters.Being with you is complicated and simple at the same time. It’s confusing and addictive. It makes no sense, yet somehow it’s the only thing that ever has. I’ll fight it. I’ll joke about it. I’ll act like I’m untouchable. But there’s a part of me that belongs to you, whether I like it or not. A part I can’t hide. A part I won’t. I hate how much I care. I hate how easily you get under my skin. I hate how one look, one word, one sound from you can make me feel alive and terrified at the same time. But I also love it. I love it so much it hurts. I love it because it’s real. Because it’s not fake or easy. Because it’s messy and human. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not for a million clever jokes. Not for a single day of pretending I’m safe. Not for anything at all.
Love with you is quiet and loud. It’s sitting in silence and feeling like the world is moving too fast, but also feeling like it’s slowing down just enough for me to notice you. It’s laughing at dumb things and feeling like I could laugh forever. It’s arguing over stupid things and realizing I don’t care about winning, I just care about being there with you. It’s every little thing that makes sense only when you’re in it.
I’ll keep pretending I don’t care. I’ll keep the sarcasm as armor, the jokes as shields. But underneath it all, there’s a part of me that’s yours. And it’s messy. And it’s ridiculous. And it’s beautiful. And I hate it. And I love it. And I wouldn’t change a thing.
Even when I try to act like love is a scam, even when I pretend I don’t notice it, I do. Every damn day, I notice it. I notice you. I notice everything about you, and I can’t stop. I can’t stop thinking about you, about us, about the chaos and the quiet moments, the way you ruin me in the softest ways. And somehow, in all this ridiculousness, I wouldn’t want it any other way.Because love is stupid. And terrifying. And infuriating. And exhausting. And addictive. And real. And if I’m going to be messed up by anything in this world, I’m glad it’s by you. I know I’m hopeless. I know I’m drowning in it and I don’t even care. I tell myself I’m above it, like I can walk away anytime I want, but I can’t. Not when you exist. Not when a single smile from you can make me forget every clever line I’ve ever written, every rule I’ve ever made about keeping my distance. You break me without touching me. You exist, and that’s enough to destroy me.
I keep thinking about the future, which is ridiculous because I’m supposed to be sarcastic and detached, but then I see you there in it. And suddenly I’m planning, imagining, hoping. And that scares me more than anything. Because hope is dangerous. Hope makes you weak. And I’m already weak for you. Already addicted. Already tangled up in the stupid mess that is us.
I try to joke about it. I really do. I call love a scam. I call you a con artist. , I smirk, I act like I have control. But I have none. I never did. You own parts of me I didn’t even know existed. Parts I tried to hide. Parts I swore no one would ever touch. And you did. And it hurts. And it’s beautiful. And it’s terrifying. And I want more.
And then I remember everything I hate about love, everything that makes it ridiculous, and I realize it’s all still better than nothing. Better than pretending I don’t care. Better than walking through life numb. Better than the quiet loneliness I keep telling myself I prefer. Because with you, even the pain is worth it. Every sharp word, every awkward silence, every stupid fight that ends in nothing but exhaustion, it’s worth it. And yet, I still act like I’m untouchable. I still joke. I still ignore. I still pretend I’m above it. Because if I admit how much I care, if I let myself fully fall, there’s no coming back. And I can’t stop thinking that maybe I don’t want to come back. Maybe I’m already gone. Gone into you, into this ridiculous, messy, beautiful thing we call love.
And so I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep pretending. I’ll keep my sarcasm, my jokes, my walls. But under it all, there’s a fire that only you can light. A fire I’ll never put out, even when I try. A fire I don’t want to put out. And if loving you is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, then I’m proud to be stupid. Proud to be yours. Proud to be lost in this chaos, hopeless and addicted and completely, completely yours.
I don’t even understand why it’s like this. Why, one look, one word, one stupid little laugh from you can rearrange my entire brain. I’ve been through enough, people who leave, people who lie, people who barely care, and i didn't give a damn about them all and yet here you are, and suddenly it’s different. Suddenly, all the walls I built, all the rules I thought kept me safe, are gone. And I let them go, because I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it. I catch myself imagining things I swore I never would, I imagine us sitting somewhere quiet, pretending nothing is happening in the world, but noticing everything about each other. I imagine stupid little fights over dumb things, just so I can see you frown and roll your eyes and realize that I actually care too much about them. And I know it’s ridiculous. I know it’s insane. But I can’t stop.
And then there’s the fear. god, the fear. The fear that somehow, some day, it’ll end. That all this chaos and quiet and laughter and obsession will evaporate and leave me staring at nothing. And I know fear is part of love. I know it’s supposed to be terrifying. But it doesn’t make it easier. It makes me want to hold onto you tighter, to memorize everything about you, to drink in every stupid detail before it disappears. I hate how much I think about you. I hate how much I care. I hate how easy it is to fall apart when you’re around, and yet I love it. I love it because it’s real. Because it’s messy. Because it’s ours. I wouldn’t trade it for cleverness, or freedom, or comfort. Not now. Not ever.
Because love is ridiculous. And messy. And intoxicating. And with you, it’s everything. And I’m never letting go, not even if I pretend I’m above it all. I’m done pretending. I’m yours. And that’s the only thing that makes sense in this world of nonsense.
Sometimes I catch myself staring at my phone, hoping for a message that will come in and ruin me all over again. And I hate myself for it, because I swore I’d be above it. I swore I wouldn’t let anyone get this close. I swore I’d be untouchable. But no. One message. One stupid “hey” or “ok” and suddenly, I’m a mess. Suddenly, my chest hurts in a way I thought was reserved for pain I didn’t deserve. And I’d do it a thousand times just to feel that hurt, because it means it’s real. Because it means it’s us.
And I know I’m ridiculous. I know I make too much of everything. I know I overthink every look, every word, every sigh. But I can’t stop. I won’t stop. Because this, this chaos, this mess, this love,is worth it. It’s worth every second of anxiety, every sleepless night, every fight I imagine, every stupid worry about what it all means.
I hate how much I need you. I hate how easy it is for you to own my thoughts, my heart, my attention. But I love it. I love it because it’s real. Because it’s raw. Because it’s terrifying and messy and beautiful all at once.
And the thing I hate the most is how much I love it. How much I love you. How much I can’t imagine a single day without this madness. I’ll pretend I don’t care. I’ll joke. I’ll roll my eyes. I’ll act like I’m untouchable. But underneath it all, I’m burning. I’m lost. I’m completely, undeniably, inescapably yours.
and that’s how you laugh at everyone who actually thought you were in love.
Sincerely,
Ahmed