Broken strings & Pretty things

The world, seen through a young girl's eyes.

Fireworks.

That’s the kind of love you want. The love that draws all of you in: not just dipping your toe in the shallow end, but a full submersion and letting your heart and mind and dreams to be drowned in its depths. The kind of love which makes you fear and be excited all the same. The kind of love which makes you feel young and free and that outside of this moment nothing exists, and that you are infinite. The kind of love which makes you think that you hate them, because it would be so much easier if that was the case. The kind of love which finally makes you stop caring if your life has become a clichĂ©, because you finally realise the truth inside of them. The kind of love which makes you question whether you are being stupid, or whether you are risking it all for greatness. It’s the kind of love where you take risks, and you get hurt and you bleed, but it feels good; it feels good that you put your heart on the edge rather than settled for being nothing more than content.

It’s coming home at 3am and hitting the walls and cursing his name yet wishing he was here all the same. It’s finally understanding what they mean when you see fireworks in a kiss: the exuberance and exhilaration and the passion all setting alight. It’s seeing flaws and knowing them but not caring, because perfection is boring and needless and that you wouldn’t care if he sinned a million times because, to you, he is perfect.

It’s not the carelessness or obsession of a first love. Nor is it the nonchalance of deceiving yourself into thinking a comfortable relationship is a happy relationship. It’s love. It has space, and time and wholeness. They just complete everything.
It’s golden and it’s pure and it makes you finally understand what you have been waiting for.

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