There was this moment in time, when my mind didn’t seem to work anymore. Just a mere second where all my thoughts brimmed in the air. But all I seemed to think was “Is this how falling in love feels like?”. I remember how my grandmother used to talk about grandfather, how heartbreakingly beautiful and sad 'love' was.Maybe he knew that, when he saw me, that I would be the one falling in love, that I would be the one getting hurt. And that’s why he went to me. And it worked.

There’s this feeling when you fall in love with someone. Because in that state of time, your heart either decides to take a chance and sink deep in the pool or forget and backtrack. It wasn’t like that for me. My heart didn’t decide. I didn’t choose. I just let it happen.

I don’t know what was so attracting about him. It wasn’t his looks or his eyes. It was just this feeling – that feeling. The feeling of danger, of the unknown; the way he acted. The way he let himself inside a room, like in those movies where everyone stops and stare. And when he smiled at you, there was this feeling of security. He made all those problems go away, he made you feel as if you were protected from danger. I should’ve have looked more carefully. Because even though, there were hundreds of problems drowning us, there was this problem drowning me. I should’ve notice you were more dangerous among all of this.

Looking back, I’m not sure if I was me. But looking now, I’m not sure if I am me. Being all those months with him made me feel that. I felt myself forgetting who I was, what were my goals, my achievements, my dreams. 

But he was beautiful. It wasn’t hard not to look at him. I could’ve had looked at him all day.

All those kisses, touch and making love didn’t seem to be meaningful to him. It didn’t hurt me that much because even though I spent all my time photographing those moments in my head, although I knew he wasn’t. All those fragments of memories so precious to me were just a fragment on his timeline.

I cried at lot. I spent most of my times looking at the reflection in the mirror and all the time, the person in the mirror never looked like me. Every time I came back, the figure looking back at me, changed. It wasn’t a good feeling. Feeling yourself drastically go away. I wasn’t scared of loosing myself. Even though I wasn’t going on the same road and following my path, I knew that somehow I could’ve have backtracked. My mom used to say this: “You can always find your way back home”. She used to say this when I was lost. I was confident of finding myself again.

He had numerous of names. Kai, Dance Machine, KJ. I was the only one calling him Jongin – Kim Jongin. I knew he hated that name. Knowing his real name made me secure about our relationship. I felt like he trusted me. I guess that’s what makes a relationship: trust. I've always known that he didn’t use me just for . He wanted to feel loved and he knew he could get that from me. He knew I’d fall for him. He wanted someone to hold on to, someone he could get hold of. He wanted someone that was his.

He said it accidently when we got a fight with each other. I was surprised but I hid it from him. I was scared of him. It was always the same thing: us fighting, him throwing things and then him telling me how he loved me, how he was sorry, how tired he was of all those cops following him. With him, it was always hiding, stealing and playing. Running away, eating instant ramen and cuddling under the same blanket. Driving in an old car, blasting music and sitting on the rooftop of a house kissing.

Within all of that, it wasn’t the fear of losing him. It was the fear of losing that feeling when I was with him.

I’m not sure if I’ll ever feel that again. I’m not sure if I should.