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Love. Such an inexplicable feeling. For a long time, I used to think that it was meant for someone else but not for me. I had crushes, but they were as close to true love as Don Quixote lusting after the illusory Dulcinea. Everywhere, people sing about love, but it felt like a cliche.  I couldn’t relate to most love stories. So many just felt so insincere to me. The closest to my idea of love was Tim Burton’s Ed Wood, or Shrek 2, and yet it was something I still understood only as an abstract concept.

I didn’t think much of her at first. That girl in the class before mine was cheerful and friendly, but so are many people. Any feelings I had for her would merely be a passing phase as usual. Still, we exchanged smiles and pleasantries, nothing much. At the least, she was fun to meet. And yet, I anticipated going to class for reasons beyond the course material. I tried to convince myself that I often get there early anyway, but the truth was that I wanted to see her again.

The term was coming to an end. The feeling I thought would pass instead only grew stronger every time I talked to her. I tried to focus on other things, as I had a lot of work after all, but she was always on my mind. She always knew how to make others feel welcome in a conversation, and someone this amiable wasn’t someone I meet every day. She was someone special.

I knew this time it wouldn’t go away, so I confessed that mess of contradictions that were my emotions to someone in private. Having someone listen and understand made me feel a lot more confident and validated that it wasn’t some silly crush. And I realized that this sudden intensity was because I didn’t merely want to be a faint memory to her. I…I didn’t want to let this go.

As it turns out, she was really eager for us to become good friends and we started talking to each other a lot more after she invited me to a science presentation. It was a joy share our lives and dreams with each other, and I was glad that I let her know how I felt about her. I now had another close friend in my life.

To be clear, I’m not saying that love is something inevitable for everyone if they are not interested. In fact, I strongly dislike the way relationships, especially sexual ones, are forced upon people. Still, it’s something not entirely explainable, but the unpredictability is part of the fun. And in the end, it doesn’t matter that I had no story to completely relate to. I was writing my own story as it unfolded. So I believe there are no rules; just being true to yourself is enough for your own story. And you just never know what lies ahead in your future.

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