Partially inspired by this piece
We’re taught to crave that Friday night kinda love, disco ball, vodka mouth, kiss me then forget me, bleary eyed, only when the sun goes down, baby, kind of love.
You won’t like my politics, I’ll think your bros are lame but that’s okay because our paths don’t lead to each other, they just happen to intersect on this particular night and yeah maybe sparks will fly but that won’t be passion or a sign of divine intervention, that’s just what happens when two people collide. This is physics not philosophy.
But I’m starting to forget my equations and rules and find more meaning in prose. I’m starting to want that Monday morning kinda love, coffee and and unmade bed and a wrinkled shirt and fluorescent light kinda love. We’ll be comfortable in the silence because we know what it holds and we won’t always be kind or happy or whole but that’s exactly what we need. Give me that Monday morning kinda love because if you can’t love in the unromantic parts of life then you might as well not love at all.
Diary of a mad brown girl 