half asleep. listening to a song that smells like you, breathes like you, feels like your skin. i remember. and i look back with fondness. somehow, i hope you know that. it's all turned positive. because the older i get, the more i realize that those moments were as real as they could get. even the bad ones were, at the very least, honest.

everyone should experience that crazy kind of love, the kind that leaves you with chest pains, that keeps you on the phone for 8 hours at a time. compels you to ride across the country, the planet, bring a little bit of stardust home. it's wild, not to be tamed. it crushes you deep into the dirt, flattens your life like a pancake. it keeps you checking the cars that pull up, it sneaks you in through the livingroom window at 4am. it keeps you coming back even when father doesn't like the puerto rican-ness.

love is best when it unravels its mess all over your soul, when it's never planned.