I remember the way he looked in jeans and a t-shirt; his hair wasn’t long when we met. It was so short that there was almost nothing of it. He had dark brown eyes, but not too brown; they reminded me of caramel. I noticed the way he walked and talked and presented himself to people, his friends, other girls. He was skating on roller blades on the shiny hardwood floor and laughing with his friends. I didn’t know whether he was single or with someone, but I was determined to find out. I was intrigued by him, I wanted to know more about him. It wasn’t too long before I got his number and started talking to him. We got along so well, and I knew he was going to be amazing just by the way he acted. At the time I was about 13 or 14, and I was falling for everyone. He was 15 or 16 and I had a thing for older guys. He made me believe in everything I never did before. I started to believe in happiness, true love, that love actually existed. I couldn’t get him out of my head, and I didn’t want to. Thoughts of him invaded my mind and decided they were there to stay. We talked on and off for a few months I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to let go of him, and we ended up dating, on and off for months, when we finally realized that we were meant for each other.

He loved me more than anyone, by caring for me and being there for me, and I was thankful for him every day. I have never had someone show me that they cared about me like that, that someone could look at me the way he did and hold me how he did, I wasn’t used to it. I was never treated well, or even as good as he was treating me, until I met him. Everyone always walked all over me and took me for granted. He came along and swept me off my feet; I had never felt love for anyone like I did him. I grew older and so did he, I was now 15 and he was 17. I became infatuated by every little thing about him. I realized that in his caramel eyes, one of them had a hint of light green just there, like God wanted him to have his own special thing, and that was his. His hair grew longer, and I was okay with it, I loved it long, but I loved it anyway he wanted it to. He had freckles from ear to ear, his arms were even covered in them. He almost always wore a sweatshirt and jeans, or a t-shirt and jeans. He hated shorts, I never knew why, but he just didn’t like them. I noticed that when he was nervous, he almost never looked at you; he’d stare at his phone or the ground and if he were walking he would just kind of hop. When he became angry at me, he never yelled; it’s like he was incapable of yelling at me, his voice quivered, his hands found their way to me and he’d talk nicely even if he wanted to scream. It’s funny how in the beginning, I never knew these things about him, but two or three years later and here I am with my best friend and we’re madly in love.

When we met, I never even believed in love, because my parents were never happy, and I thought I never would be either. He knew everything. He helped me overcome fears and taught me to love. The most important thing is that he taught me how to be loved. He taught me how to let down my big brick wall that I’d tried so hard to build up all of my childhood, and he told me to let him in. I did and I can’t say that I’ll ever regret it. There isn’t a day that goes by where I’m not thankful to say I fell in love with the boy who was just rollerblading by me. Although now he wasn’t the boy who just rollerbladed by anymore. He was the boy who taught me how to play baseball, who introduced me to every Harry Potter movie there was and showed me how nerdy he really was, who cooked me food like chicken, spaghetti, and so much more because he knew I was incapable of making a good meal, who helped me with my homework in every subjects, who hugged me tighter than ever before, who loved me unconditionally, who allowed me to be myself no matter what.
He could have picked any other girl in that room, yet he picked me. He knew I was a mess, a storm that never stopped destroying anything in it’s path and he still wanted me. He still thought I was the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen, and he made me feel like I was the most beautiful girl in the world. He made me feel special every day, and I never wanted to let him go. I promised him, and myself, that this time there would be no storm, only occasional thunder and rain, but I would never destroy the one who mattered most to me. I would never leave him to be alone and sad, I would always protect him and be his best friend, staying by his side and never letting go. So that’s exactly what I did.

I stuck by him through his family problems, no matter what they were. If his parents were fighting or someone had passed away, I was there for him. I would wipe away his tears and hug him to make him feel safe. He’s a senior now so college is his main priority. As any kid would do, he freaked out assuming he wouldn’t get in anywhere and wouldn’t amount to anything. Maybe he didn’t know, but I did. I knew he was talented, intelligent, and everything any college would want. I knew he would get in somewhere, but he never believed me. As soon as he did get in, he told me right away, he got into Johnson State and wanted to become a History teacher. I remember how excited he was, and how I told him that I knew he would get in somewhere. He thanked me for never giving up on him, believing in him when he didn’t believe in himself and told me he loved me. I realized then while being proud of him for this accomplishment, that he would be going away. He would be leaving me, and I would never see him. I didn’t know what to do, I got scared, I ran. I run when I’m scared or nervous, he knew that. I left and I didn’t know if I wanted to go back. He’s my home, my safe place, and as I’m writing this, I realize maybe I do want to go home, I want to feel safe again. The moral of the story is, you should fall in love and fall hard, and when you do always be prepared, let your big brick wall down, and try not to ever let go.