They ask me, "Do you believe in love?" and I laugh softly. Because I do, just not for me. I see it in other people, how they find warmth in each other's hands, how they fit so easily where I never could. I believe in love like I believe in stars, beautiful, real, but always far away. I cheer for it, write about it, even dream of it sometimes, but when it gets close, something in me steps back. Maybe it's fear, or maybe I just stopped expecting it to stay. So I tell them yes, I believe in love. Just not the kind that comes for me.