If you want immortality, marry a Writer.
If you do not want immortality, but rather a taste of memory, a lingering of the unforgettable, then date a Writer and here’s the thing, be certain of what you want before you pursue a Writer. We are vicious with our words. We’ll cast you as a stool, or worse off a wretched withered broom leaning against an old lady’s abandoned hut and you’ll never know it.
If we really want to call you out, then we’ll cast you as a loser in our book and describe all your mannerisms down to the color of your nails.
If you want immortality, marry a Writer but this story is not about happy ever after, it may seem so, but before you start throwing a party and inviting your friends over, be sure that you want to listen to this…so I met this guy!
We’d been in the same circles but never interacted that much, we just made simple conversation. He struck me as suave. The guy who wore fitting jeans, always rocked a mean pair of Converse (If you know me, you know I love a guy in Converse… I’d marry a guy in Converse) and gave tight hugs. Yes! The hugs that you felt all the way into your bones, the kind that jolted your feelings into some kind of euphoria and you’d never let go, besides my Mom told me that when people who are close to you hug you, don’t be the first to let go, it may be the last time you feel their heartbeat. She also provided a caution to that, but we’re talking about Phil, where was I? Yes, Phil gives bone melting hugs. I’m not so great at opening up to people, because I come in waves and seasons. Sometimes my tide of sharing is just sufficient to get me what I want and other times, it’s non-existent to the point that people conclude I’m a snob.
Phil would always give me hugs.
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