I remember only saying I love you when I thought it was necessary. Not because I felt it, and not because I wanted it. Because I didn't.

And maybe they were right. I still don't. I always thought that love was a facade, something fake, and forced. And you’d be right. It is. Love is a choice, it is a choice to fall in love, a spontaneous action. One of which you have a mindlessly absent, control over. An “accidentally-on-purpose” kind of thing.

I will never fall in love.

I refuse.

I refuse to let my walls down, and yes, mine are bigger than the great wall that was built in China. So big, that not even an army of samurai could take it down. And lord knows I've tried.

I've tried to let people in, and have failed miserably. I don't want your love! I don't want your forced lipstick stains along the nape of my neck, trailing down to just below my hip bones.

She was my best friend, nothing more than a platonic love. I wasn't capable of anything else.

I thought I loved her. But as I said earlier, it was no more than a false facade, and it left me with a cascade of tear-flow trailing down my cheeks.

She didn't love me back.

And I was stranded and alone, cold. I laid motionless, in a patch of grass only five by six feet around. That was the only grass that ever grew. And it wasn't soft. It was brown and faded, I had no love.

I was running on empty, and laid in a pit of despair. I had dug my hole and I refused to climb out. It was warm and cozy down there I had thought. But in reality it was actually cold and damp. And I'm sorry to use the word, but moist.

I feel that the only proper time to use the word moist is when you are describing cake, but yet… the word is so wretched, that it fits just perfectly here too.

...But then there was a guy.

He’d kissed all of the scars that laid atop of my skin. “You’re beautiful.” That was all that he’d told me as he did so. And god, if I only felt it, maybe I could have fallen in love. He made me happy. He had always made me smile, and laugh. And at the worst times too. We actually got chased out of a funeral one time, and I was holding my stomach, and trying to restrain from rolling all over the floor, wheezing. He smiled, and I swore I never saw such of a beautiful smile in my entire life. It had lit up my world. It had taken my breath away.

And then it happened-

He kissed me. My first kiss. I never thought I would feel such of a connection between another person.

But that connection was short lived.

He had stage four lung cancer.

And as I helped him shave his hair… I had kissed the top of his bald head. And said only two words. “You're handsome.”

His eyes had watered. But he refused to let the tears fall. And time had passed. We did things on his bucket list, and as we scratched off the last thing… I never felt happier in my life. He gave me a small smile.

It wasn't even half of what it used to be. This smile took my breath away, yes. But this time it was an asphyxiation. One of which, I knew immediately what was about to happen, as he had a blank look on his face.

He collapsed.

I had managed to catch him and lay him down flat on the floor. I realized all too late that I had been in love with him. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I couldn't even see his eyes, from all of the salty fluid that had surrounded them.

Hatred. Not towards him, but towards god. How could he- why would he- No. No-

I took his head, and his breath was labored. He had trouble speaking.

“I- I’m… sorry. Love… with… all my… hear-”

And as he had spoke he had inhaled a sharp breath. And that was the last one that he would ever take.

I didn't even get to say I love you back. He never knew I loved him. I just knew he loved me. And I still tasted his lips on my tongue, the sweet taste that I’d never forget. I find myself eating a lot of peppermint patties, because that's the closest taste I can find to them.

I held him all night. I guarded his body. And that patch of grass… it had turned to dust. And, I would never forget the times we shared, or the moments I had realized what we had, although it had been all too late.

But thats okay I guess.

I will start building my wall, with stone and mortar again. And this time… it won't be so easy to slowly chip away at the foundation… But just know, that once it cracks… it will be slightly easier because I know now…

That love…

Love is a beautiful thing.