Today I reminded myself of the importance of not falling in like.
Falling in like is the worst. Falling in like will lead to things such as bruised lips, sleepless nights and hallucinations of a marching band passing through my mind.
Okay, yes, it’s poetic. It’s also defenseless. Falling in like leads to grass stained knees. And I need control.
So here is the problem: Do I let myself continue to fall helplessly in like, or do I start to sabotage it, to pick at it slowly like a scab? Even worse, do I even get to choose, or will I find myself potentially ruining something because I lack the willpower not to? Or will I tear it apart little by little to beat him to the punch?
Yeah, I bet you thought this was going to be cute. Sorry. I can be cute.
Cue the marching band. Cue the pacific fireworks when he kisses me. We’ll leave the sabotage-talk for another late night moment as I contemplate the ins and outs of hour-long kisses and newly discovered blue eyes.
