all of my emotions, all of them – heartbreak, ecstasy, grief, love – just punched me in the gut. and now i am nauseous. nauseous over reading a book, but in a good way, as weird as that may sound.
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reading about love is a hard thing to do when you've not experienced it yet. but i'm holding on to optimism; hoping that i don't have a boring rom com sorta love, but one that makes me want to rip my hair out one day, then bask in its splendor the next. gosh i just want it to be real. maybe that's why i feel this way.
because it's real.