it would have been so easy to fall in love with you. i could have, i think. it would have been so easy: i already did love you, platonically, and it wouldn’t have taken much more to fall. and so i hovered on the brink, teetering between the safety of a cliff’s edge and blanket of the gaping canyon below. i didn’t love you. but i could have.

it wouldn’t have ended well, that much i know now. but back then, the child i now know i was thought the absolute world of you. just hearing you say my name, smooth syllables rolling off your tongue, was enough of a stranglehold on my vocal chords, stumbling over any word i could ever attempt to verbalize. you could’ve honestly said anything to me with your eyes glimmering like that—always so, so bright. dark brown eyes but still so bright to me, lighting up alongside that singular dimple on your left cheek whenever you laughed, talked, smiled, teased. you look at me and i almost seem to burn.

soft, soft words. i didn’t have an anchor, then. didn’t have a warm fire waiting to welcome me home, didn’t have a lighthouse illuminating the long way home through the thunder, the rain. always drifting, always aimless, nowhere to go. the open seas are only free when you have someone, landlocked, waiting for you to come home; isn’t that funny. longing for a niche, i gravitated towards anyone who showed anything akin to acceptance. but i have always known the terms and conditions attached in tiny, itty-bitty light gray print: black and white barcodes, an hourglass flipped, counting downdowndown, each grain of sand a mockery of my heart. open up too easily to people who don’t, clinging onto any shred of fleeting kindness. i have always been too soft, too desperate. i yearn for too much.

(i want to be forged in fire: eyes the glint of a blade, iron-borne confidence, steel-plated will. i want to be the cold kiss of metal that steals your breath away. the smooth shnk of the finest dagger unsheathed. i want to be the piercing whistle of an open blade soaring through the air. quick as a whip, eagle true aim, undeterred. but i have never been able to be anything but soft: brittle, paper skin that gives and tears and bleeds. i absorb, not deflect, not deter. and i always absorb too much.)

but you made it so easy to love you. too easy. with our heads ducked together, snickers and comments and flowing conversations. always checking in on me with a smile. always turning those piercing eyes on me, making me want to combust or disappear or explode into flames or all of the above, simultaneously and not at all. always saving a space for me beside you. always taking an interest in me, in the things i had an interest in. for a moment in time, i felt safe. for the length of a breath in space, you gave me a home.

and then it all fell through, cold hands colder eyes. ripping out the idyllic golden daydream tint in one fluid, unhesitating, unfaltering motion. i had always known that you had better friends. of course. what was i, oblivious? no–but hopeful enough, foolish enough, to think that closing my eyes for a second would make the shadows on the wall slink away. and i’m so used to it, being left behind. always the convenient option, dropped when no longer required. always the spare. i know. i know people get tired of me easy, easy. i knew it was coming, saw the rolling gray clouds looming on the horizon announcing imminent turmoil, the end of an age, and smiled anyway, turning my back. closing my eyes. waiting for the close.

it’s okay. i’m used to it. i could have fallen in love with you, i think, but i didn’t. for better or for worse, i do not know.

Cheryl Tan (she/her/hers) is a current student at the University of Washington studying Psychology and the author of the piece “You Look at Me and I Almost Seem to Burn.” Cheryl’s piece is inspired by her perspective on what it means to fall in love. “Love… it’s about what to do with the knowledge of the ‘what ifs,’ and what it means to watch love transform into platonic or romantic, or something in between.” Cheryl describes herself as a chronic over-thinker who enjoys writing and baking. Currently, she is in Singapore, and enjoys being in her hometown and getting bubble tea in her free time.

Dear 7th-grade boyfriend,

Honestly, I didn’t know you that well. We were in band together and you confessed you liked me. I think I said yes because I was flattered that someone had even recognized my existence despite wearing basketball shorts all year. Despite not knowing you well, you were also my first heartbreak. You never bothered to tell me you wanted to end our two-week relationship. Instead, I heard through a friend that you changed your Facebook relationship status to single, as you ghosted me. We laugh about it now, when all we did was hold hands and go to the mall.

You taught me how I should get to know someone better before dating them. Anyway, I’m glad we’re still friends.

---

Dear 8th-grade boyfriend,

We became close friends as I helped you transition from Korea to the US. I developed feelings for you slowly. Although I made fun of you a lot, I still remember the butterflies I felt in my stomach when I fell asleep on your shoulder while on the bus home from summer camp. I can’t remember if you asked me out or if I did, but regardless, I tried my best in this relationship. I gave you chocolates for Valentine’s Day, made a coupon book, and edited a video of photos for our 100 day anniversary.

We never did make it to the 100 days.

I had unrealistic expectations for what a relationship should be. I was disappointed when you said you got me chocolates for Valentine’s Day, but ate them all because you forgot them in the car and they melted. I was disappointed when you only got me a keychain toy clock for our one-month anniversary gift. I was disappointed when I heard rumors that you were flirting with another girl at school.

I decided to end it.

Later, I realized that I needed to communicate how I felt and listen to your side of the story. I needed to appreciate the small things and not be disappointed by what the gifts or actions were but rather the intention behind them.

I learned a lot from you and I am thankful.

---

Dear 10th-grade boyfriend,

You were my friend for 9 years.

One summer camp I noticed we were flirting and talking a lot more. Eventually, you asked me to be your girlfriend at church. I said yes - you were always so kind and I enjoyed talking to you.

But eventually, my grades fell, and consequently, my feelings for you too. I broke it off because getting into college was my priority.I didn’t want to be in a relationship anymore. I wish I had realized sooner, but I’m glad we’re still friends - going on 15 years :).

---

Dear post-high school boyfriend,

You, sir, came with a lot of drama and you were the hardest to get over.

You encouraged me to sing more and taught me what communication in a relationship should be like. You showed me what it meant to be cared for. But our feelings lasted like a summer fling -- brief, passionate, and secretive. We ended it because of differences in religion: a reason that I despised, even to this day. It wasn’t even us - it was your parents. In hindsight though, I’m glad we ended it then.

Because of you, I almost lost one of my dear childhood friends, lied to another friend, and struggled with my own identity and religion. The influence you had in my life was both positive and negative, but I grew so much after you. I focused on myself. I took up bullet journaling, drawing, and hiking to distract myself. I sang more and took time to practice instruments I hadn’t touched in a while. I caught up with friends and re-kindled my relationships.

After you, came the time to love me, and I am so grateful for that.

---

Dear, you,

We met through pure luck.

I created a Tinder account as a joke with a friend. I only meant it to be up for twenty-four hours: I closed the app at exactly two-thirty in the morning, and you were the last match I had. You caught me by surprise though: you super-liked me, and it grabbed my attention. You were handsome, and the way you spoke made my heart flutter.

You skipped the “wow you’re beautiful” “hey baby girl” lines that nauseated me. Instead, you started our conversation by asking me why I slept so late.

Wow-- a guy who cares about my sleep schedule. You immediately started talking about music and food. Wholesome. Then came the intentionally cheesy pickup lines we threw back and forth, the deep questions, and then, the skype calls. It felt natural and so easy. You took time to get to know me and always fought to continue our conversations. You built trust, and showed me that you appreciated the small things in life. You were able to balance school, friendships, and family. You were straightforward, supported me in my academics and hobbies, and cared for me as no one has before. You are someone I respect and appreciate for being wholly you and inspire me to better myself each and every day. You have taught me how to love better and laugh harder. I can’t wait for more years to come. I love you <3

Grace Bahn (she/her/hers) born in Muscatine, Iowa, and raised in Seattle, WA, is the author of the piece, “To All The Boys I've Liked/Loved Before.” Grace’s piece is inspired by the memories and lessons learned, in her past relationships. “While reading the prompt, ‘the words I wish I said, when I knew I fell in love, crazy how we met stories’, it brought up memories from all of my past relationships. I wanted to talk about what I had learned from each experience and show how that led up to the relationship I'm in today.” She describes herself as curious, empathetic, and responsible. In her free time, she loves to listen to music, watch TV, embroider, and sing. Grace will be entering the Human-Centered Design and Engineering Masters Program in September at the University of Washington. You can find more of Grace on her Youtube Channel “V and Grace.”

Do I Believe In Love?

The icy winds of grief slash through my head;
I brace myself, unwilling to be hurt.
The only thing I’d feel is inky dread,
If I were to be emotionally alert.

The things I hear will only make my heart
Drop down to the cold floor, and my eyes are
Filled up with sights that tear my soul apart;
To taste delight is oft to me bizarre.

So I obscure the eyes of feelings mine
To throw emotions out of my concern,
The sorrow’s brunt I dullen, and align
All woes with sentiments that I do spurn.

But though my sorrow’s cycle may repeat
And drown me in its hazy misery,
I want to feel, be loved, to be complete
To instigate my heart’s delivery.

I want to love with all the passions of
A million suns and eighty trillion stars,
I want to have such overwhelming love
That I can smooth the most persistent scars-

I want to be so absolute in love
That I feel every fragment of my being:
Soaring, drifting pleasantly above
Silver clouds, my inhibitions freeing.

I want to be the subject of such love,
One that gives so unconditionally-
I want to be the ever-elegant thereof,
Admired with intense electricity.

I want love I get in return for mine
To be so absolute in its sole form
To be the purest nectar, so divine
That even frigid permafrost, it warms.

To have loved so wholly and passionately
To have loved with all my heart, eternally
To have persisted in throwing myself adamantly
Against the fire of love, burning infernally

To have loved in such an absolute manner that
I have no grievance or regret to feel,
To have made your partner’s heart a habitat
I yearn for this, if only it were real-

I’m not so smart, I’ve figured out just now,
Absolutes fuel vulnerability.
I’ve loved with passion more than I’d allow
From someone clutching to stability.

A million billion times I’ve seen that my
Poor heart’s been tossed out to the icy street,
This love has made me cry and cry and cry
And yet I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

- I Want Love

Jeesoo Yoon (she/her/hers) is a second-year at the University of Washington studying Physiology, Neuroscience, and Philosophy and the author of the piece “Do I Believe in Love.” Jeesoo’s piece is inspired by her search for love and the lessons she has learned throughout. “This piece was inspired by a time in my life when I was constantly jumping from one relationship to the other. At this time, I tried to find love in the wrong places: I was stuck in a place of complete emotional detachment, yet struggled with feelings of desolation, helplessness, and the desire to be loved and to give love. The story has a happy ending, though. Now, I write from the perspective of somebody who has found love and understands what it truly means: I dedicate this piece to the lovely man who held my hand and led me through all of it.” Jeesoo has plans to attend medical school post-graduation and describes herself as introverted, yet sociable. Recently Jeesoo has enjoyed picking up an assortment of artistic hobbies such as, shoe painting, miniature figure painting, and playing around with clay sculpting, and watercolor painting.

April 1st, 2018. I arrived at Narita Airport with my student visa in one hand and a suitcase filled with souvenirs from Korea in the other. I had no knowledge of Japanese language or culture, but I would have to get by.

As soon as I passed immigration, a girl waved at me. She was my designated airport pick-up buddy from Sophia University. She was with her best friend, who was picking up another exchange student. I tried to make small conversation with them as they led us back to the place that we would call home for the next 4 months. I couldn’t remember the other exchange student’s name, but I could remember the hole in his shoe. The hole was so large I could see the fabric of his sock, a bad choice for a first impression. I kept staring at it on the train and on the bus that would soon take us to the dorms.

When we arrived,I was immediately ushered to my dormitory room. I was unable to say a proper goodbye to the boy who had a hole in his shoe. I didn’t think I’d see him again. And I think I was okay with that.

The following morning, I needed to figure out how to get to the University for the exchange student orientation. Like a true procrastinator, instead of mapping out the directions, I went to Daiso and bought a packet of jelly and toiletries and headed back to the dormitory to see if other exchange students would head to the school at the same time.

On my way back I passed a familiar face. I stopped walking. The guy with a hole on his shoe? Does he remember me? I couldn’t remember his name, so I was hesitant to say something and stop him. But he’s Japanese… maybe he can help me get to school – “Hey Hannah?”

Oh, thank god. He remembers me too.

And on our way to the University, I looked down to see if he was wearing his hole-ridden shoes. He wasn’t. He was wearing chacos – a version of Jesus scandals. Interesting choice.

I looked up and asked him: “Hey what’s your name again?”

“Nick”. Nick.

Well Nick, thank you for helping me get to Sophia University… Though I don’t think we’ll be seeing each other much after this.

When we arrived at orientation, in my mind - Nick had served his purpose, so I immediately left to go find my assigned seat. I was assigned an aisle seat and started to make small talk with some exchange students that were sitting to the left of me. I turned to my right and there he was. Sitting at the table next to mine, only an aisle between us. “Oh, Hey! It’s you!” he said.

What a coincidence, I thought.

And as the day progressed, Nick and I would introduce each other to new friends that we had made throughout orientation.

It was no longer a coincidence.

We found home in each other.

Three years later. The man with a hole in his shoe, the same man that wears Jesus scandals, is the only man I find home in.

Hannah Chang (she/her/hers) is a recent University of Washington graduate (graduated in 2020), currently working in Software Engineering in Bellevue, WA. She is also the author of the piece “A Hole New Beginning.” Hannah’s piece was inspired by her time in Japan and a special someone that she had met there. “Looking back at my time in Japan I realize that there were so many instances where fate brought us together. I never believed in fate, but taking a step back, I'm able to see that we were destined to meet and be together.” Hannah describes herself as cheerful, adventurous, and fun to be around. In her free time, she enjoys painting, drawing, scrapbooking, and watching Disney movies. You can find more of Hannah’s work on her Instagram, @hannahgyc.

Andrew Look (he/him/his) is a third-year student at the University of Washington, studying Molecular, Cellular, and Developmental Biology and the author of the piece “Sunrise.” Andrew’s piece was inspired by a special person that had supported him in recent times. “I generally get inspiration for my pieces by capturing a particularly pungent emotion I might be feeling at certain points in my life. I struggle with properly expressing and processing my thoughts and emotions, and therefore, use poetry as an outlet to clarify everything: I'll usually sit down, wallow in the specific emotion for some time, and then attempt to write out everything I am feeling at once. Then later, I'll go back to my writing, and revise it more technically. This piece specifically is a brief culmination of the emotions I experience around this particular personage whenever I'm around them. This is one of the first poems I wrote about them during our early years of companionship.” In his free time, Andrew enjoys staying active by running, hiking, and going on walks, video gaming, and spending time with friends. Recently, he’s been learning to cook and enjoys watching anime, especially when it is murky outside. He values the virtues of humility and respect and tries to integrate those qualities in everything he does. Andrew has plans to attend medical school post-graduation.

to my first love

for me to love someone else was for me to let myself down.

i looked for sparks to fly in the oddest places, trying to see every stranger as a potential suitor and every encounter as a “meet-cute.” i desperately grasped for what wasn't there -- writing my own fantasy-dream-come-true even when there was never an empty page to begin with.

in the end, it was my fault for not being good enough.

i was too emotional.

stubborn.

negative.

picky.

anxious, stupid, annoying.

too insecure.

so, sometimes, I don't believe it when you say you love me, “there are better girls out there,” I think to myself, Ones far prettier. funnier. braver.

so why me?

they say that you need to love yourself before you love someone else, but i don't think that's always the case. loving myself is hard, but loving you comes as naturally as the changing of the seasons.

i trust you, which means that i trust the you that loves me too.

with all of the unrealistic romances i've dreamed up in my head, i’d expected my first relationship to be like the other almost-loves; disappointments and heartache, guilt and loneliness.

instead, i'm awake in bed at 4 am with big fat happy tears rolling down my face, smiling at the texts from you on my phone.

instead, you've helped me feel at home even in a tiny apartment half a country away from my family and friends.

instead, i can't seem to get tired of you, even after every day and night we've spent together.

now my days are warmer, filled with comfort and breathless laughter and words so sweet they could be dripping with honey.

and even when they come, the days where i feel like i'm not enough aren't so bad with you by my side.

Mulan Zhu (she/her/hers) is a current second-year student at the University of Washington studying Bioengineering and the author of the piece, “To My First Love.” Her piece was inspired by her experiences with romance and the lessons she learned throughout. ≈ “I've always been a romantic, but the kind that liked to dream and write about it instead of diving in headfirst in real life. Through my experiences with romance, I feel like I've learned a lot more about myself than I thought. Similarly, my relationship with my current partner developed very unexpectedly (in the best way)-- I'm amazed by how much love can still surprise you even if you're an avid overthinker like I am.” In her free time, Mulan loves to write and enjoys photography, art, and music. She has plans to pursue medical research post-graduation. You can find more of Mulan’s writing at https://reading.supply/@zhumulan and/or on Instagram at @zhmulan.

There are moments in time that I hold and re-live as a sort of twisted reminder that my perception of love is not what it used to be.

Sometimes, these time loops sting, but they are ultimately insignificant. Like when I set the table for my family and grab four sets of chopsticks instead of the three I’m supposed to.

Other times, it hurts to the point where I feel tears randomly start to prick at the corners of my eyes. Like when I’m in a car, and all I can think about is how my mother felt sitting in the passenger seat on our last road trip as a family, traveling on the same route as her honeymoon trip 20 years ago, watching her marriage fall further apart the closer my father drove us home.

These memories shape me more than I’d like to admit. Scarring me irreparably before I was ever even allowed to actually love on my own.

Ironically, it is the things that make love worth pursuing that scare me the most. It’s really easy to become disillusioned from vulnerability, intimacy, and trust when it’s hard to believe that one can be accepted and respected for who they are rather than what they do.

Truth be told, understanding and capturing the elusiveness of what love means to me is still a huge question. One that I’m not sure I’m ready to answer head-on. The form of love that I know best is the kind that must be hard-earned. I have witnessed how transactions and calculations factor into determining the value of a person or a relationship in my family for as long as I can remember.

I realize now that it is my responsibility to weather past the echoes of what I’ve been taught growing up. To mend the brokenness that was the byproduct of my parent’s divorce. To work through what my family’s “tough love” actually did to me. To quiet the cynical romantic in me that tells me that on the off-chance that love does exist, it will never be mine for the taking. To allow myself to be vulnerable enough to determine whether or not it is worth risking such a huge loss to gain the relationships I want.

It’s still an ongoing journey for me. And I’m sure that countless others must redefine and reform what love is to them as well. But what I’ve come to understand for myself is that there are different dimensions and types of love -- that it is possible to bring healing and strength on top of pain and sacrifice.

For now, I stay keeping my type of love within the boundaries of simpler and safer lines. I am someone who loves and is loved. I love the people who are and were in my life. I love the place where I am at now and the circumstances that got me here. As long as those things are true, I can learn to be happy and fulfilled. And as I continue to grow from where I am, I hope I will eventually be able to love onto the next step -- outside of the boundaries I have placed on myself.

June Chang (she/her/hers) is a current third-year student at the University of Washington studying Psychology and (intended) Law, Society, and Justice. June’s piece was inspired by the differences in the ways people have held love in their lives. “For some people like myself, love brings about more insecurity and questioning. I think it usually comes from a place of deep hurt. On the other hand, for lots of others, I've noticed love is a source of stability and solution and is seen as a cure-all for life. As I processed what it means for myself after observing this, I realized it's just a complicated concept that's unique to each person and thought I could share how I grapple with my misperception of love.” June describes herself as curious, creative, and an extrovert at heart. She feels the most fulfilled when her insights and work helps to make those around her happy. June has plans to become a mental health provider as she is interested in mental healthcare and policy.