you’re sitting across the room making conversation with a friend of mine and i, and the eye contact keeps creatively providing us both with awkward moments as we occasionally catch one another staring - you smile crookedly and look away while lower my head, blush, shake my head, and bite my lip. when you arrived i could tell you were timid, and instantly your height catches me off guard. you tower a foot and a half over me. you have a shy smile, and youre unexpectedly covered in tattoos. when we’re all out getting food and i get a text, i can tell by your reaction to the look on my face you’re empathetic, you can tell i’m hurting. later, we’re all three sprawled out in a bedroom watching a film, eventually we all get restless and begin talking about music, life, friends of friends. i start to explore your tattoos, turning your arm, dragging my fingers over all the colors. you’re showing me little details here and there. you show me your stomach, your chest. i catch a glimpse of your leg and instantly a smile takes over my entire face, in the cheesiest way possible. its all ocean themed. an octopus, a sea turtle, vegetation, and then - i see it. a seahorse. practically identical to mine. we laugh about the similarities, and i snap a photo. we all bullshit for hours, eventually heading off to my friend’s bathroom where you sit witnessing him shaving half of my head. you laugh as i laugh, making faces at you in the mirror, and seem unphased by the fact that here is this girl you just met, shaving half of her god damn head. i’m pleased. its one thirty and you offer to take me home. or i can stay at your place. i think of him, and go home. i respect it too much, even though he trashed everything. and before the thoughts of whats just happened between him and i begin to fill my head, you start to poke fun at me. i’m blushing and you compliment me, which embarrassingly enough makes me blush even more. luckily though, this makes you laugh. when we make it to my house, you get out of your car and i begin to get nervous. never the less, i walk over to your side of the car and thank you for the ride. you bend down for what i assume will be a hug, but to my surprise - and as much as i always hated people doing this; you pick me up. but there’s something different about it, which i suppose explains my lack of irritation. you pick me up from my waist, and you’re gentle. you don’t do it because i’m small and it has some kind of novelty to it. needless to say, if nothing else, i met someone truly kind and humble, when i was convinced the world was filled with nothing but flakes. there are only so many genuinely kind people left, whose kindness shows through them effortlessly. it was really nice to meet you.
