tell you what, the someone you decide to fall for isn’t going to be very different from everyone else, they’ll feel familiar, similar, usual. but they wont be anything you expected. they’d be of a different size, maybe even a different color. maybe they’d be reddish yellow, full of sunsets. or maybe they’d be grey, full of anxiety. it won’t happen quickly. you wont meet in a pretty cafe or a library, those are just poet driven lives. maybe you’ll meet at a graduation party or at a lingerie store. you might even meet them after their first marriage; already having been in love once. maybe they wont speak your language. nothing would be perfect, they wont know what to get you on your birthdays even if they made a huge list of all possible gifts and they wont know how to cook your favourite meal, hell, they might not even like it. they might not be anything like your favourite protagonist, and why would they even be? they’re the protagonist of your story, not of someone else’s.
there’ll be comfort, without having to ask for it. there’ll be truth, without having to filter it. and there’ll be love, without having to seek it.