4 astre

i've been thinking about this for quite some time now.

they say that you have to make a name for yourself in order to survive, but surviving doesn't equal living, just like the ability to spell doesn't equal knowing someone's name. there's just a slight difference— i touched you with my mind first. i touched, i touched and touched until you got hooked... until you got me hooked too. repeatedly. i knew how much i wanted to know what type of interest lays in you.

everyone's afraid of risks. i'm just thinking that without the risk itself i wouldn't have been sitting here now, breathing you in, breathing you out, strategically getting you out of my lungs. i wouldn't have been writing about you right now if we wouldn't have met the risk.

you never know what to expect. i, myself, didn't expect a pair of eyes like yours to meet mine. they could've been any color— they just had to be owned by you: you just had to exist and surround my entire being. after thinking our encounter through, i wanted to feel the pleasure of meeting someone who's twice as twisted, wishing to throw myself deeper in your abyss.

i'd love to be an idealist. so, this story could be a lie. in fact, you might fall in love with the wrong character— you could fall in love with the person i fell in love with and it could be as conflicting as that, because things are very simple from the outside: you fall in love, you cry, you get excited over someone's presence, then addiction decides to wrap itself around your head. no one tells you what you're signing up for, a power attracts and aimlessly drags you far from yourself, until you no longer feel the air escaping from your nostrils.

and now we could be both deciding whether to unravel an entire paradox or not.