You fall in love with a person because your subconscious likes something about their subconscious, and it isn’t until much later that you discover that the thing your subconscious liked was the fact that this person was built to hurt you in precisely the way you most fear.

-Sarah Dunn

I like passenger seats and long car rides and the comfort of a seatbelt.

I like the words ’strident’ and ‘ennui’ and ‘tachycardia’ and ‘tribulation’.

I like crossword puzzles and Free Cell and sometimes, Scrabble.

I like being kissed on my forehead and being hugged while sleeping and biting your lower lip and my nose rubbing against your nose and cuddling and curling up really close next to you and lazy morning sex.

I like stuffing my mouth with food until breathing becomes a challenge, and then starving myself for the next couple of days to make up for the consumed calories.

I like hospitals and hotel rooms and waking up in strange places and staying up late in stranger places.

I like getting lost— in the city, in moments, in my own cigarette smoke.

I like the smell of tuna straight from the can and freshly-cut grass and laundromats and Coppertone and his hair at the end of the day.

I like the beach and the spray of saltwater on my face and the sting of the midday sun on my skin and feeling the sand grate, and the wind whip, against my body.

I like fries stuffed into my burger and green salads with lots of cheese and chicken swimming in gravy and caramel sundaes.

I like bad reality tv shows and movies that make me go ‘whoa’ and songs that make me hit the pause button while I write down a line or two.

I like noise and comfortable silences and conversations that go nowhere.

I like after-sex silences; after-sex conversations; after-sex cuddling; after-sex fights.

I like getting my heart tangled and realizing I was wrong just a little too late and picking up the pieces and having a bottle of alcohol swat away all emotions.

the boys i mean are not refined
they go with girls who buck and bite
they do not give a fuck for luck
they hump them thirteen times a night

-e.e. cummings