I asked Ben, and he said that what happened to us at that train station was serendipity with a capital S. I knew there was a name for it, but I'm not smart enough to know what it is or how to spell it. I knew that I could ask someone about it, someone like Ben, who is perpetually and miserably a scholar, and they would know. What I can't figure out, spell out, or ask Ben about, is how I was lucky enough to meet you. You're a dilemma. You're fleeting, light, mysterious, wonderful, enchanting. I can't put you together and do it right in one word, and even if I did it wouldn't feel right. If someone like Ben can't tell what it is about you that makes you so amazing, then I'm screwed for the rest of my life, and I'm going to be stuck under your moonlight. You confuse me. I love you. Like crazy. This is for you.
dead dove, do not eat
Diana | 16; I dabble in photoshop and fail miserably in coding, but overall I'd like to say I'm a professional at crying through existential crises until I step out of them. And get this: I write.