Loving him is like waking up in the middle of the night and realising I still have time to sleep.
It’s like losing myself in a book, surrendering myself to the words, having no recollection of the past, present, or the future. When it finishes, I put it down and I’m like, damn. What was I doing with myself before this book? That’s how it’s with him. What was I doing with my life without him?
It’s like having a piece of chocolate cake and not feeling guilty. Not giving a fuck about the calories but just, revelling in the taste.
It’s like having perfectly brewed coffee. Or a glass of wine that hits the spot every time.
It’s like catching my favourite songs on the radio, and singing them at the top of my voice.
It’s like warm sheets I can snuggle into and my favourite movie on TV.
It’s like the perfect weather on days you aren’t busy, and the smell of petrichor after the first rains.
It’s just like I’m seeing the world for the first time in full colour, and thinking before him, damn it was black and white