I am a very different kind of person. For starters, I am very intense. Not a lot of people know this since I'm careful to act differently in public, but my family knows it. At least my sister does.
And what I mean when i say that I am very intense is that I'm a big fan of strange love. Ha ha. I enjoy those excruciating moments, the ones that leave you breathless and with a bitter pang in the pit of the stomach. I don't want that sappy love.
Yet yesterday, as we were driving to my cousins house, my dad slowed down because of a bump. I, uninterested in where we were going and such, was stuck in my own world, listening to Ludo's "The Horror of Our Love" when my eyes caught something interesting.
Standing in front of a house was a boy and girl, probably around my age, maybe younger, and they were talking. They wore hooded sweaters, the girls hair flowing out. The puffs of their breath was visible in front of them as they spoke; the guy laughed as he took her hand.
And then it was over. We were already zooming past them but that one simple image stayed in my mind.
I wonder why that was.
I mean, I'm not a fan of those type of actions. I like seriousness, not subtle, innocent flirtation. Yet why was I so entranced with that scene?
Hmmm.
I was stuck with that question all night long. Even we went out for tacos and we took the same street back, I couldn't help but search for them. In my mind, that was such an innocent scene. And suddenly i wanted to feel that way as well. Perhaps it wasn't the same intense feeling i yearn for, but it still left me feeling so melancholic.
Ahh...what a night...
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