Lord knows I’ve been in love before. I’ve cried on the mat, tears streaming down my face, fully distraught, praying for callbacks and text messages, praying they’d find love in their hearts for me as I had for them. So why is it that, after all that, this time feels like I’m in love for the very first time?

I never tire of his presence. I’ve been in love before, but I’ve never met someone whom I didn’t need time to recharge away from. Usually, after a few days, I’d need to come home and have time to myself, but with him, it feels like he’s a part of me. Being with him is as enjoyable as my own company, if not better. Oh, I think—they call this love?

We fight, but he forgets it quickly. My attitude blows over, and I surrender to his love. I can’t even stay mad at him. I care for him so deeply that I understand him to his core. Every step he takes, even if in the wrong direction sometimes, I understand where his heart comes from. Before he loved me, before all of this, he was human first, and I’m in love with all his flaws, just as he loves mine. He actually said it to me one day, and I thought—that’s wonderful.

There’s little I wouldn’t do for this man. He’s the exception to every rule.

Now, am I worried I might end up hurt? Terrified, to be honest. But sometimes I sit back and think, this moment is worth it. I’ve found little happiness in this world, and he makes me immensely happy. That’s more valuable than anything.

And how funny is it, that it took me forever to feel sure about people, about commitment, to feel certain I would love them every day—until I met him. With everyone else, I always wondered, even if I felt deeply for them in the moment, if I’d still love them the next day. Rarely did I find the faith in myself that I would, and often, I lied to myself and struggled through days when I didn’t feel the same way. I accepted that this is how relationships worked—that you didn’t love them every day, that some days you pretend. I was always in awe of the couples who made their relationships last through years, as mine barely lasted one.

But with him, I can’t imagine a day when I won’t love him. It just happened, without much effort. Maybe that’s what falling in love really is—one day you just fall, and everything is different. All the rules and expectations you had of love crumble because it’s nothing like you thought it would be; it’s better. In a way you can’t quite describe—it’s just better. And I pray I never lose this love.