Love was never the same.

When I was 7, love was my dad teaching me how to ride a bike, but not really. He was afraid that his small daughter would fall and get hurt, so he held the bike for me all along the way.
When I was 10, love was that cute boy in the next door class who wrote notes back to me and said he liked me the same and made me a love gift box filled with tiny paper hearts.
When I was 15, love was the boy sitting next to me and we would share headphones. He broke my heart, for the first time of my life.
When I was 17, love was someone asking me in desperation that would we can still be a thing. Love was someone that laughed at the same things with me. Love was having them by my side at all cost. And love was that miserable day, I lay quiet on bed crying, my chest was sinking. Love was hard.
When I was 18, love was mom holding me together. I was scattered. My broken pieces were sharp, they hurt people but mom was there. Love was unconditional.
When I was 19, love was laughing at boring jokes. Love was appreciating mundane moments. Love was anticipating, longing. Love was shaky hands. Love was talking about philosophy, psychology and music and arts. Love was writing me a song. And a poem. And love was for me.
20, love was someone offering me the world. Love took care of me. Love was buying me everything I want. Love was 2 a.m calls just to calm my breakdowns. Love was months of waiting for our another meet. Love was putting up with the fact that I would eventually like someone else. Love was writing 4 pages of letters. Love was boring. And I left love.
Love used to be long walks around campus. Love used to be his sweaty, shaky hands. Love has long hair. Love was playing guitar, love was singing Creep and No surprises together. Love was Soviet joke. Love was memes. Love used to be walking 9 kilometres in the rain to meet me. Love used to be biking all around Hanoi to buy music show tickets for me. Love used to be staying when I was not okay. And love was leaving. Love was choosing themselves first. Love was knowing we would be better without each other.
Love was a dear friend who always was there for me, even until now. Love was asking to fix it together. Love was forgiving. Love was new, love gave me hugs when I needed some. Love was taking me places.
Love was never the same.
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