I went to Philly and saw a mural street art tour where you travel on a train line and all the murals look like they were written by someone trying to tell a train passenger that they love them, it’s called A Love Letter For You. Every single one felt like it was about him, like listening to a song on a loop.
We were walking my roommate’s dog and the sun was going down, it was fall. She looked at me just as the brightest ray hit her eyes, which are normally a very standard brown, but in that split second they were the brightest gold, and I just wanted to tell her I was in love.
He held my hair back while I vomited all night after blacking out at his birthday party and making a fool of myself. The next morning, he had breakfast and ibuprofen on deck. If that ain’t love, then I don’t know what love is.
I knew I loved her when she was puking in a bin after we got home from drinking, she kept yelling “don’t look!” and I swear I just wanted to kiss her.
I heard her laugh in the dining hall. It was obnoxious. I could hear it from outside, up the stairs, in the lobby. I had to find the girl with that laugh, I swear to God I knew that I felt like if I could make her laugh, I’d have everything I needed.