manic pixie girl/6
When your heart is on the edge of its seat waiting for the next door to open:
keep yourself in bed.
You unconsciously realize that you still check the window upstairs to see who is knocking. You've learned to love experience and the thrill. Maybe you are just not ready. Maybe this is just fine. It is normal. You are still not used to sleeping alone at night, but you have learned to block out all of those boys who still make a mockery of your first engagement. I am still throwing away every bit of hopeless romantic there is to me, but I wear my hair down to let the wind remember what it's like to have someone's face to touch. I've become a body to wrap the arms of strangers around and a couple of palms to plan a future with. I don't know the difference between a heart line and a head line and I'm not so sure if I believe in the fate line.
My heart lays awake with me all the time. It talks to me through words and ink. Through freshly bound book binds and souvenir Van Gogh postcards. I've watched it come and go and we've argued so many times these past two years, that there is no one else I'd like to grow with. My career reminds me that unconditional love does exist. That happily ever afters are possible. That if something is meant to be, it will be. But I am not ready to give her up for just anybody. Maybe this is just fine. It is normal.
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