The story of Leah and Michael

Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are not fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely planned. With that said, I changed names and will not mention any geographic information or time-frames to preserve the characters’ identities. With that said, Leah and Michael, if either or both of you read this, I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing about this.

With all the violence and death that has been going on of late (note: I started writing this in late April and am just finishing this now), I thought I would write a little story about love. Not my own love, (unfortunately,) but of a rare and beautiful kind that I felt privileged to witness firsthand during my travels.

Movies, television, and magazines have created notoriously unrealistic outlooks for romantic relationships. They create the expectation that there will be a great story when you meet the love of your life, that, despite any obstacles you may encounter, you and your significant other will have a fairy tale ending and live happily ever after. In some cases, this may actually happen, but realistically, it does not. I probably do not have to tell you that relationships are built on a combination of love, trust, struggle, and compromise; any of you who have ever been in a relationship or are presently in one know exactly what I’m talking about.

This is a story that, as far as I know, still has no ending, but I still want to share what I’ve already seen with you. I first met Leah and Michael during one of my many travels. Living the poor student’s life, I booked myself a hostel. As it wasn’t my first time living in a hostel, I was actually sort of keen to meet my roommates, hoping that they would be cool and that we could be friends. When I first got into the room, I saw that two of the beds were already occupied and I heard the shower running…and two voices. People traveling and staying in hostels in pairs is nothing out of the ordinary, but when you walk into this sort of situation, you can’t help but think and worry for a brief moment that perhaps you should have taken that extra five or ten minutes in the lobby to ask about the sights in the surrounding area. Fortunately, my worries were laid to rest when Michael walked out of the bathroom shortly after I walked in.

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The Principles of Love

(Note: Technically a reblog, but I didn’t want this lost in my Facebook wall, because it’s far too sweet. Edited for minor errors. ~GY)

The phone rang.

She was sobbing badly on the other end of the line.

“I’m going over,” I told her and hung up before she could protest.

1am. It was going to be a long night ahead..

She was still crying when she opened the door. She looked so broken, so vulnerable. I didn’t have to know what was wrong, I just held her in my arms. She cried even more.

“He broke up with me,” she finally said.

I just kept quiet as she let it all out… questions, tears, anger, hurt.

“Why does love have to hurt so much?”

“No, love… doesn’t hurt,” I said gently.

“So says the guy who’s been single forever? What would you know about love,” she jabbed.

“So says the guy who’s been your friend though Mr. Now-ex-#4,” I grinned. “Love doesn’t hurt you.. it’s the person that doesn’t know how to love or appreciate love that hurts you. But love never hurts.”

“You won’t understand, Matt,” she sighed, “you’ve never been in love…”

“That’s not entirely true, you know…”

“Wait what- so who’s this girl I’ve never heard abou-“

“What did you love about #4 anyway?” I interjected.

“I don’t know… he is just perfect. And I love him so much.”

“But you don’t know what it is that you love about him?”

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