All Things Chill

I love her. I know every single curvature of her face and every happy wrinkle when she smiles. She sings to me when I’m still asleep and whispers fairy tale futures that I can barely hear. She lends me her socks when I forget to pack mine. I loan her my scarf when the breeze turns into a strong winter wind. We exchange mixtapes frequently (snicker) and make trips to the grocery store an afternoon event. She loves me enough to only be friends. She’s worth all the pain she caused. She started my short-hair fetish preference. She brings a box of chicken wings (fried HHAAARRRDDD) and we’ll eat rice with our hands on my bed right out of the pot. She calls me kuya. She knows the rule of thirds. She raises Neopets. She sneaks me in and out of her house and hides me under her bed. She insists that she’s still single. She’s the one who gave me my first Dashboard Confessional cd. We take walks from DePaul to the lake on Fullerton avenue in the spring. I lay my head on her lap as she studies on the beach. She humbles me. She looks adorable in glasses. She always left me wanting more. She convinced me to work in the mall. She knows that I can tell the same story a million different ways, and doesn’t mind it. She squeezes me between school and work. She has the widest smile. She stops by my place for a bowl of split pea soup and to watch old French movies rented from the library. She’s the reason why I’m still alive. She sweeps her bangs. She’s really good at pool. She’s got style. She cooks me Kim Chee and eggs for breakfast while she blasts Weezer’s blue album on a hot summer afternoon. I gave her my favorite hat because she asked for it (even though I know that I’ll never get it back). She’s bitter as hell, but all that Emo makes her sexy. She can tolerate my snoring. She lets me have the last bite. She smells like home.

She’s everything I love in every girl I’ve ever met.

Damn, I hope she exists.

~Herschell

This entry was posted on Thursday, October 27th, 2005 at 1:13 am and is filed under Doodles, Streaming Conciousness. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.