It comes in waves, like dreams filled with all these images flooding my head and legs and arms. Being in love is something like being a kid sitting on the beach when a big wave hits you kind of hard, and even though you didn't expect it and now there's sand and salt in your eyes, you enjoyed it just a little bit. Especially that moment after the wave hits you and begins to retreat, pulling you just a couple inches forward.It feels nice to be out of control sometimes. And it's nice to know you're out of control, and let yourself be so.
It's like that one time Magic took off on me. Somewhere in my head the life preserving me was urging the reins back, telling my voice to yell stop, but my lips were parted, smiling.
I'd like to write down notes that say what I'm to timid to say aloud to leave around your room and in your car to find when I'm not there. Because I want you to know all these things, I just don't want to be there. Being there physically puts you hand in hand with the responsibility and weight of what you just said. No hiding now.
And I want to watch the same shooting star with you, and even maybe tell each other what we wished for,
damn the superstition.
