I would read you like a book, even if you were written in a foreign language.
Love is illogical, sometimes. But the feeling of wanting to learn a new language just because your favorite person is spoken in it… that must be something close to unfathomable.
I never thought I’d want to take a language lesson because of a person. Someone I met on a random Tuesday morning, all quiet and awkward. Someone whose presence, somehow, I’d never truly been unaware of. Someone who found it hard to joke around because he was afraid his humor wouldn’t match mine.
But everything just clicked. It all aligned so perfectly I almost forgot we were strangers the night before. I talked to him like I was telling my parents about my first day of high school. I listened to him ramble like it was a new episode of my favorite podcast.
I started to learn that watching someone sleep could feel this endearing. So heartwarming, that the person who thought they did nothing—when in fact they made many things make sense—could sleep so peacefully under the dim light. I don't know exactly when it started, but I love watching him sleep like it’s something I could live forever for.
Sometimes, it’s hard to read him. Sometimes, he seems like an innocent little boy nodding for a bag of sweets. Sometimes, he shows up in a thick grey coat, waving at me from the bus stop. Sometimes, he laughs, and it soothes my heart. Sometimes, he goes quiet, and I want to understand. Sometimes, he talks a lot to the point of too much, and it makes me giggle. Sometimes, he snores, and it sounds so silly. And as silly as those things are, they make me love him even more deeply.
I’m still learning how to read him. Meeting him feels like finding a book you know is a great one, even if you don’t understand a single word of it. Like a piece of classic literature written in a foreign language. Like something you’d absolutely fall for, even if you don’t fully grasp it.
Sometimes, things aren’t meant to be understood. They’re meant to be felt. I love every side of him that remains unreadable, yet somehow still feels real. I love every part of him that stays invisible yet so vividly present.
As time goes by, I keep growing, wanting to love more of him. The parts I haven’t been shown yet are the ones that might take a little more effort to reach. The road ahead might be uncertain, maybe even difficult, but the destination feels worth it. Because in the end, everything is worth trying.
