Never take a chance with a tattoo artist whose arms are bare. Never put your money on a fighter without any scars. But most importantly, never trust someone who only knows how to tell you they love you with their lips.
Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else, but just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.
That’s what really scares me.
Falling in love is easy. Having sex is easier. But bumping into someone that can spark your soul - that shit is rare.
You could fuck four, five, all the people in a god damned room and you’d only feel a connection with one. Or none at all.
And what sucks is despite the undeniable real magnetic pull between the two of you, more often than not, you don’t end up together.
I’m afraid I won’t meet anyone else I can connect with.
I’m scared it’ll be just you.