1:12 AM — After the Sleepover
I slept over at his place last night.
We stayed up too late.
Watched something neither of us paid attention to.
Fell asleep halfway through talking.
I love him.
I don't hesitate when I write that.
I want to stay with him.
I like the way he laughs.
The way he reaches for my hand without thinking.
The way being around him feels easy.
And that's what scares me.
Because she used to say the same things.
She used to say they were forever.
That they were meant to be.
That she couldn't imagine life without him.
Those kinds of lines aren't supposed to break.
Are they?
If "forever" can dissolve…
if "always" can weaken…
Then is anything solid?
She once told me that love sounds perfect on paper.
But life isn't a fairytale.
Reality isn't that clean.
I brought that up last night.
I asked him, half-joking, half-serious,
"What if we don't last forever?"
He didn't flinch.
He said,
"Maybe we won't."
That wasn't what I wanted to hear.
But he kept going.
"What matters is that we're choosing each other right now. I want this. As long as we can, I want this."
I didn't know what to do with that.
It felt… calm.
Not possessive, just present.
I'm not entirely satisfied with that answer.
Part of me wants guarantees.
A contract.
A promise that can't be undone.
But maybe that's not real.
Maybe nothing is solid except the present.
Maybe love isn't about securing forever.
Maybe it's about showing up today.
I don't know.
I still don't like that "forever" can break.
But I think I'm starting to understand why people say it anyway.