We did not meet in a cruise ship; I wasn’t any rich young girl and you weren’t a careless young man either, whose paths have crossed along the seas and became inseparable like the sky and the stars. We aren’t from the same high school; and I wasn’t a nerdy old-school type of girl, and you weren’t the cool, haughty, heartthrob either; you neither did realize you were in love with me during a play while you saw me in a nice gown with my hair done, and kissed me at the end of it. You also didn’t tell me you would write to finish the ending of a book I loved even if you know you’re a bad writer, because the author didnt tell us what happened in the ending and treated us like crap when we came to see him in Amsterdam. We didn’t meet anywhere romantic; we didnt start of from something great; we didn’t tell each other any of those fantasies. We were just we.
We started as office mates; you were miles apart from me then. I started noticing you and wondered if you saw me too. Then when the time came when I almost gave up biding my time on you to notice me, the gravity somehow pulled us in and the next thing I know I was sitting next to you. I remembered those days as they were a piece of the puzzle that made me the happiest, which I never thought would ever become reality. We started talking and you started picking on me, and I became mad at you for doing so.
Then that one night came. We held each other’s hand and never wanted to let go. And from there started the roller coaster and my trip to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory.
You’re not Jack and I’m no Rose; neither are you Landon and I, Jamie; your name is not Augustus Waters and mine is not Hazel Grace. You are you, and I am me. Our love story isn’t something you write on a book and make a movie from and have the entire world go crazy for. It’s the kind you know is undoubtedly real. The kind that’s deep and lasts through life. The kind that only you and I understand.
I love you.