I don’t know! That’s like asking would I ever date a unicorn. I don’t know. It seems just as likely, being that I wonder if they exist enough to want to date me—well, wait. That sounds like I think I’ll never meet a unicorn. I think I’ll meet a unicorn someday. What was the question?
Let’s just say sure. Is the question, would you? Grammatically it leaves a lot of room for—let’s just say yes.
“I don’t know much about her but I’m kind of infatuated with this girl. Or maybe it’s the idea of her that I’ve created. I found myself thinking about her tonight on a walk under some makeshift constellations struggling through the light pollution of Boston, fleeting thoughts coming and going like New England snowfalls. It’s not a lusty, I-want-to-fuck-her kind of deal. I want to hold her close and sing her soft rainstorm melodies and move her in a way that makes her feel unspeakably alive because there’s nothing that has touched her to the core like that in a long time. I want to bear my soul to her in the way that symphonies are written, so that at its completion, my story will have completely enveloped her like B minor at the predawn of a snow-covered day, and she’ll realize that there is nothing more painfully right than the overlap of the lines on our palms and all the countless intersections of her eyes (beautiful, sun-drenched) and mine.”—www.writesomething.net/post/1357140/ (via jumbojessica)
There’s one thing I want to say, so I’ll be brave You were what I wanted I gave what I gave I’m not sorry I met you I’m not sorry it’s over I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save…