the dreamer and the traveler

To me, love was about time. To him, love was about adventure. He would often bring me to places where we would gaze at the stars and laugh and cry about all our problems. I was the dreamer, and he was the traveler. He didn’t know about my problem. There were days before I met him that I wouldn’t even leave the house for weeks for some unknown fear of judgment of the outside world. But all of that changed when I fell in love with him.

“Sometimes I think we’re all just passing time,” I told him.

“What does that mean?”

“Have you ever thought about the fact that every moment we feel is turning into a memory as we speak?”

We’re all gonna die one day, and as morbid as that sounds, it’s true. None of this will even matter.

“Do you know why I love gazing at the stars so much?” he asked. I looked at him, waiting for his response.

“It’s a million stars so far away and so bright that I’m no longer afraid of the darkness. It reminds me that there’s nothing in this world that I should fear. Not even loving you. Even when we’re not close — I will never fear loving you.

Then I kissed him and kissed him until the fear of passing time had melted away. And in that moment, I understood that forever could be measured in just a few seconds as fear was replaced with love.

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