What is simple in the evening by the morning never is.

I think I’ve always been sort of a simple girl. Always preferred coffee over tea, books over TV and music over, well, everything. I’ve never gotten into drugs or alcohol or anything of that such, and frankly, I’ve always thought that being alone was plenty fulfilling. I just enjoy being alone, and I never seem to get lonely, which is lovely, I suppose.

But what happens when the nights suddenly start feeling a little chillier, and the days a little longer? What happens when you start telling yourself about how crazy and chaotic and prolific and beautiful the world is? Shouldn’t that be shared between two soul mates? And what about needing to see a smile that isn’t forced or mandatory? I must admit, it’d be awfully lovely to be a part of something that didn’t slip away for once. And sometimes, I wish I had someone to watch the stars with, giggle with, to decorate the world with. Sometimes I think I’d love to have a hand to hold, an eye to dry or maybe even a heart to save? I think it’d be darling. I really do. But I don’t think that exists for a simple girl like myself.

I really don’t.

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