“You fall in love to easily.”

“I didn’t fall in love with the city, I fell in love with something else. I fell in love just a tiny bit more than I imagined.” 

I don’t even think I’m capable of love! I don’t even think I know how to convey such an emotion, or perhaps even a human-made substance. It lingers, it’s stagnant, and it’s frail. It comes tomorrow, and leaves yesterday. It’s what I imagined “perfection” to be. It’s what I imagined a substantial amount of devotion, and concern. It’s when you become so selfless, that even the tiniest bit of ego, has become it’s own ego, and that ego, is destroyed by the next ego, which then turns out to be very anticlimactic because perhaps when something is perpetual it loses substance. Perhaps, I’m wrong. Perhaps, I did fall in love too easily. Perhaps, I see potential in everywhere I am not. Perhaps, my mind is wondering in places that I have yet to be, but feel that experience I am missing is elsewhere, that my mind and body are different things and when I think I’m seeing something, my mind thinks I’m missing something. When I see potential opportunity I spontaneously jump to the conclusion that I want to be right. I want things to be right. I want right to be things, and I don’t want to write to know what’s right.