Innocent love. That’s what I held in my heart for her. My heart fluttered every time I saw her. I remember the way her chocolate hair flowed in the wind, cascading across her shoulders. I remember how she would do the most awkward things, how color filled her beautiful cheeks. I remember the fireball she was, how endlessly loving and enthusiastic she was.

 But I also remember how I noticed these things; sad things. I remember how I could tell if her smile was fake by the twitch in the corner of her mouth. I remember how my heart broke as I helplessly watched her deal anxiety. I remember how she would always wear shorts that covered her thighs. I remember how she would break down, how she would hate herself.

 I remember the day that I told her about my suicide attempt and she told me about her’s. I remember how I cried with her. I remember letting her down, I remember picking her up. I remember how we hugged that first time I saw her after she had gotten out of the hospital. I remember how she was the only reason why I did not kill myself. I hope I was her reason.

 I remember that day at school where the lunch table was full and she asked if I wanted to sit on her lap. I remember how I internally freaked out and awkwardly declined.  

 The thing is, I have only known this woman for a year but I want to truly get to know her. I want to learn her pet peeves, I want her to tell me her life story and rant. I want to help her. I want her to truly believe and know that I couldn’t imagine the world without her. I want her to know these things that I can’t put into words. I could think for hours and not find out the right mixture of 26 letters to express how important she is to me. I won’t ever be able to understand how such an amazing person could hate herself and want to end herself. I want to be there for her, to break any of those lies.

 Because I’m in love with her. I’m in love with her personality, her scars, and who she is. I wouldn’t change a thing on that astounding woman.

 I am innocently in love with her. I want to fall asleep beside her, to brush the strands of deep brown hair out of her eyes. I want her to feel loved. I want to be the one that fixes the future and puts a peace of mind on the past. I want to be her first love.

 I love her. I love the way her eyes have so much depth. I love the choker that wraps around the base of her tanned neck. I love her true smile, how it perfectly fits in her complexion. I love her figure, regardless of society’s standards. I love the little bows she expertly weaves into her hair. I love the way she can make anyone smile. I love her weird nature, how she isn’t afraid to be herself. I love her story, how it proves how strong and amazing she really is.

 I want to brush my hand across her cheek and kiss her. I want to make up for all the times she felt worthless. I need to make her realize how much better she is compared to these illnesses.

   I want to make her feel wanted.

   I want to be her first love.

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