I see people falling in love. They’re falling in love with other people. And I want to fall in love with someone too and someone to fall in love with me. But I’m not the type of girl guys could fall in love with. And then I realize I’m not the type that could be loved. It may be my soul, my face, my eyes, my body, or everything that can’t be loved. Anyway, I will always be the one that loves too much.
But I didn’t realize that I already am in love! I’m in love with my Espresso I drink in the morning, with the feeling I have that I’m the only one who woke up so early, with my sleepy face I have when I wake up, with time spent putting on my clothes and makeup, with the sun shining in the morning, with the cold mornings, with the feeling I get when I look in the mirror and I like what I see, with the fresh morning air that welcomes me into the world, with the mountains I wish I could climb, with the sleepy, sad, hurried, happy or lovely people I see on the street, with all of them, with the feeling I have when I arrive at school or where I have to, the feeling I have when I see the people I love, the feeling I have being at school, learning new things, the feeling I have when it’s time to go home, with the feeling I have when I arrive home.
I’m in love with the time spent putting on the comfy clothes and pulling my hair in a messy bun, with the feeling of security I have when I’m home, with the Nescafe 3 in 1 I make at this time, with the naps I take in the afternoon, with my cats, with cats in general, with nature, with travelling, with the evening.
I’m in love with the TV series I watch in the evening, with the night, with the sound it makes, with the dark and cold winter, with the bright and warm summer, with the time I get in my warm and comfy bed, with sleep.
I’m in love with the cities I’ve never been to, with the books I’ve read, with characters from books, with the music I listen to, with bands and band members, with words, with singing, with dancing, with madness, with photographs and photography, with the pen I write in my notebooks, with the sound the keyboard makes when I type, with eyes and smiles, with the rain and the sound it makes when falling on leaves, with my photo camera, with tattoos, with Tumblr, with people on Tumblr, with what they post there, with quotes, with jewelries, with makeup, with vintage and modern clothes, with fashion, with blue eyes, with red roses, with funny, sad, romantic and any kind of movies, with couples in movies, with the meowing of cats, with their purring, with the wind, with the sea, with the sand, with milk, with tea, with food, with coffee, with English, with vanilla perfume, with sweets, with hugs, with kisses, with touches, with huge teddy bears, with hot chocolate, with Ireland and Irish people, with UK and British people, with Romanian traditional food, with my quotes’ notebooks, with funny people, with ‘fuck’, ‘damn’, ‘shit’ and ‘crap’, with my laptop, with art, with the Union Jack (UK’s flag), with the little things people do for me and with the little things they say to me, with the warm tears rushing down my cheeks when I’m completely destroyed, with four leaf clovers, with interesting and not so used names, with accents, with cartoons, with memories.
I’m in love with things because things can’t hurt me.
Or maybe I could simply say I’m in love with life even tough life hurts me sometimes.