I remember when I first got Max home, those were the most peaceful days of my life. And I needed those after everything that happened this year. I want to heal and seeing him heals me. It felt so immeasurably happy, it was insane. Whatever that feeling was, that was exactly what I wanted love to feel like. Not a game to be won, but to be enjoyed. 

I would take him to the beach to stargaze or play on the empty beach, dunk into the dark and cold sea water. He would follow me around the house, trying to catch my pace on his tiny feet. And once he would get a hold of me, he would stands between my feet and curls up like a furball, refusing to let go, refusing to let me move.

I love gardening because I love flowers. So our landlord would let me work in his garden, while Max would try to climb the garden wall but end up falling on his face. I would pick him up and dust his fur, encouraging him to try climbing it again. He would bite the soft and green stems of young plants and the landlord would start yelling at him from his balcony, to which he would bark at the landlord.

Casper was still not my roommate back then. It was a few months back. I haven't known Casper for a very long time, but now, as I watch my reflection in the still water inside the old, tin bucket, I think, I haven't known myself for a very long time either. I'm eighteen, and I have just started to see life beyond the red glasses of childhood. And even after I've left people behind, I would always have their memories within me. 

They can take away my love for me, but they will never take away my ability to love. Because love defines everything and its everywhere. You cannot escape it. That which can't be defined by love, would be defined by its absence. 

By the time Max grew up, weeks in and out, he had a very dark blonde fur covering his skin entirely. He dug up the soil for me in the garden, and he would roll around on my bed which seemed too small for the both of us now. He recognized his name when I would call him and he gave me serene company and unconditional love, and I gave it back to him. 

He never got mad at me for grabbing people's attention, for having my natural charms, for liking what I did or for wearing high heels. He was there when I needed him. He stayed. I wish you stayed. I wondered what you might be doing. And as I spent my days wondering about a love that could've been my everything, Cypher moved in. 

"This is your new roommate,"
Life moved on. My skin lost his putrid scent, and my tongue lost the language that we once shared. Memories are all I have now. But as I heal, I believe...I believe that

Maybe love isn't hard
It's like art. If you truly love it, you would do it. It's beautiful to love something more than you love yourself. That's what makes us human. But what also makes us human is to feel the pain of watching something that you love more than yourself hurt you. And what it evokes is not hate, but self-pity. Of regret. Of pain. Of love. Of everything that you could've been. 

-To be continued