Peer Review by KN Husna (Malaysia)

Below, you'll see any text that was highlighted with comments from the reviewer.

Tap on comment to view. Using a mouse?

Hover over comments to view. On a touch device?

I Was So Sure It Was Love

By: Emily Yousey


I was sure that I had once met love.
I was young and in middle school,
But I was sure that I had met them nonetheless.
I think it was their twin.

Their twin had curly brown hair,
nice brown eyes that looked at me like I was their world,
and they had lips that left a sweet taste on my mouth.
I was so sure I had met love.

We would go on dates,
We would laugh and secretly steal kisses when no one was watching.
We would smile at each other, 
Whisper secrets into each other's ear.
I was so sure they were love.

But love turned into a person I didn't recognize.
Their curly brown hair now seemed more of a blond,
their once nice brown eyes no longer looked at me like I was their world
and instead regarded me as some second option,
and their lips no longer left sweetness but something that amounted to lemons soaked in lime juice
and given salt as a sweetener.
I was so sure I had met love.

But then love threw me away.
I became some semblance of a first option,
but when I looked in the mirror all I saw was a ghost of that.
I was no longer an option.
I was so sure it had been love.

I didn't look in the mirror for days after,
I kept thinking that I would see the ghost,
that I would give myself over to thinking I was less than what love was telling me,
what they had showed me.
I don't think that was love.

When I finally got the courage,
I looked myself in the eyes in the mirror and I saw love.
Love had my brown hair.
Love had my dark brown eyes that looked like whiskey when they caught the sun just right.
Love had my lips and smile.
I think this is what love is supposed to look like. 

I kept looking in the mirror, 
and I found things I had been told were flaws by the twin of love.
I found acceptance in my mirror that had once been a prison of self hate,
and I picked up my broken pieces,
but with bloodied hands smelted them together and created a work of art.

I have met love.
And love is not another person. 

Love is yourself.

Message to Readers

It's pretty straight forward but I have a friend who said it sounds better if read aloud, so I guess that's true. Anyways, please be nice.

Peer Review

The fact that it's different. Honestly, I thought it would be another one of those "found the true one" kind of stories—by the time I reached the last line, I was far from disappointed. I was completely infatuated with this piece.

No. It's perfect the way it is. :)

Reviewer Comments

This piece had truly moved me and I don't think I can ever forget it. You've portrayed your message beautifully, and might've inspired readers who can relate heavily with the start of the story. I hope every single insecure person reads and understands this, and develop love for themselves. :) Thank you for writing this.