I’ve read poems and articles and love stories and countless love notes, and I have always thought that love, and I mean true, undeniable love, worked one way. I thought that, if you don’t fall fast and abruptly, it wasn’t true love. For it to be true love, it must rush over in an instant and consume your whole being. You must become dizzy and dumb and doe eyed. You must lose sleep talking to your lover at all hours of the night to know that they're thinking of you. You will weap when a phone call is missed, a date is cancelled or a three month anniversary is forgotten. It wasn't until I experienced you, that I realized this wasn’t true love at all, but a mere distraction. A detour from reality. True love happens slowly and precisely. True love is morning breath and tulips. True love is two years later and finding a new freckle you relish. True love is not a campfire that will subside in the late evening. True love is the whole damn Western Hemisphere erupting into flames.