I didn’t believe in love at first sight.

I had seen him a million times before. In fact, we’ve known each other since we were children. I remember going to his house and playing hide-and-seek. I remember watching in awe as he showed me the drawings he had created. In fact, my eyes must’ve looked into his at least a thousand times by age eleven, and no, I didn’t love him at any of those glances.

As we got older, we started seeing each other less and less. We’d greet one another with an amicable “hello” as we passed and occasionally, we would see each other at a party. But I didn’t feel a thing for him. Our teenage years progressed and suddenly we saw each other more; we were friends with the same friends, so naturally we started seeing each other on a weekly basis. Merely seeing one another turned into talking to one another, and talking to one another turned into joking with one another, and it snowballed from there.

Somewhere in the sleet, I started to like him. I don’t know exactly when, or how, but I remember looking at him and realizing how kind and witty he was, and how mesmerizing his eyes were, and how he walked with a certain bounce in his step. And I guess he started liking me, too, because it was only a short amount of time until we were dating. So of course I liked him, but even after looking at him for months, I didn’t yet love him.

He started opening up to me. He told me his secrets and shared his past and listened with open ears as I told mine. I learned his fears and goals and dreams and desires. I became completely entranced by the way he spoke, and laughed, and hummed, and whispered. I got used to his presence: sitting beside him as his shoulder touched mine, driving in the car listening to his favorite songs, lounging on the couch, pretending to watch movies but instead watching him. I tried to write about him, tried to explain him in as much beautiful detail as possible, but I couldn’t. I realized that he was to indescribably wonderful to put into words, and that I was okay with the blank pages as long as it meant I’d have him.

I don’t even remember when it happened. I just remember staring right into his eyes and no longer just seeing gems disguised as his irises, but I saw his heart, soul, and so much more that I can’t describe in writing. I saw him from a different angle, through a different lens, in a different place. It was I was seeing him for the very first time.

And then I was in love.