You are meant to be with someone who sees through you.
This is what we’re made of: fragments. Fragments we try to make sense out of. Fragments that are never in order. Fragments that are made and left by everyone we ever meet.
This sounds insane, and maybe I am, but the more I get to know you, the more I feel like all my forgotten dreams are being pulled out from my subconscious and projected onto my waking life.
I want your stuff all jumbled up with mine. I want your scent all over my pillows. You’ll be the first and last person to cross my mind every day.
You only need to hear the beginning of a song to know if it fits your taste; and sometimes you know it’s going to be a favorite before it even gets to the chorus.
Go home. Go back to reality. Every day is a new day. Grab a beer, fall asleep, get over it.
Yes, Future Girlfriend, I want to be taken by you.
But of course I tried hard to move on. This part, most people don’t get.