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All I know is, it was him.

I used to call him a big white bear.
My big white bear.

He was this big, chubby boy who walked around like he didn’t even care about how the teenage world worked around him.
But when he laughed,
he had this bright, sunshine laugh.

As if he lived in a world of his own,
with his friends,
speaking a language only they understood.

He was kind. And funny.
A shy-shy boy,
but brave enough to ask my parents for permission
before he asked me to go out.

He held his pride,
but he is also the one who checked in on me,
introduced me to his big, warm family,
planned little birthday surprises,
brought me chocolates and roses,
and waited for me so we could go home together.

I didn’t know much about love back then.
But all I knew was,
he made me the happiest.

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