i never knew what it is like to love

one morning, i woke up and started existing. i was alive. for the first time. it just kind of happened without me meaning it to. and then it became a habit. every day, i would get up and live. it was strange, having a rhythm. something i never had.

and something i will never have again.

like most things, i don’t remember being born. i guess that also just kind of happened. i sprung into existence. atoms strung together with stardust. did my atoms start beside yours? 

i think about a lot of things, my love. things i will never understand. but i still ponder on them, over and over. wishing the answers to appear.

why do we live?

living isn’t like loving. living isn’t like longing. but somehow i still know how to do it. i don’t know how i learned to live. i still don’t know how i learned to love.

there’s a lot of things i didn’t know, my love.

there’s a lot of things you had to teach me.

i sometimes wondered if it upset you. did you ever get annoyed that i didn’t know?

it’s not my fault. i’ve never lived before.

i remember the day i found out i had a heart. not metaphorical. not a symmetrical one on a store-bought valentines card. an actual, pulsing organ in my chest.

do you find it strange too? thinking about the things going on inside? it makes my skin crawl and my hair rise. like zombies from their graves.

remember when you asked me if i was a zombie? if i had returned from the dead? no, love. i haven’t ever existed before. 

this was my first time.

and i messed it up.