How can one person make me want to do all the things that I’ve told myself never to do;Take a leap of faith, risk it, try, fall in love, give it a shot, give it everything that you can, think with your heart( not your mind)
How can someone make me feel so beautiful, so fixed, so perfect with just one look, with just one kiss, with something as simple as just holding my hand, as smiling at the sight of me
I cannot comprehend what is happening and I think it’s good because most of the time, I spend hours just re-thinking a moment, analyzing it six ways to Sunday, trying to figure out what is correct, what is wrong and what I should forget
“Sean: So if I asked you about art, you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo, you know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientations, the whole works, right? But I’ll bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling; seen that. If I ask you about women, you’d probably give me a syllabus about your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy. You’re a tough kid. And I’d ask you about war, you’d probably throw Shakespeare at me, right, “once more unto the breach dear friends.” But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap, watch him gasp his last breath looking to you for help. I ask you about love, you’d probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable— known someone that could level you with her eyes. Feeling like God put an angel on Earth just for you. That could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel. To have that love for her, be there for forever. Through anything, through cancer. And you wouldn’t know about sleeping sitting up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand, because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term ‘visiting hours’ don’t apply to you. You don’t know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much. I look at you— I don’t see an intelligent, confident man. I see a cocky, scared-shitless kid. But you’re a genius Will, no one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me, because you saw a painting of mine, and you ripped my fuckin’ life apart.”—Good will hunting. (Was watching it yesterday night)
The taller one takes a step forward and the other,maybe out of fear, hesitates; she puts a hand out and all of a sudden, she’s panicking.
You can see that she wants to cry, and maybe will and while this fear of vulnerability becomes an epiphany, their lips touch.
Their lips touch and it’s kind of funny how you can feel the urgency in the kiss because it’s no longer sweet, no more out of love that their kissing but rather out of need,out of lust, out of desperation.
Dear little girl, did she take away all your fear?