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01 As a little girl, romance was princes and happy endings, true love kisses and wedding rings. Soon after it was soulmates. Fated pairs and other halves and one and only's. Then it was the way the way you smiled. The smell of books. The feel of grass and crisp air. The mother and daughter blowing bubbles in the park. The tired couple you don't know on the bus leaning against each other. I look around me and all I see is Love. Love. Love. Love. In all its gorgeous, subtle, slap in the face, breathtaking beauty. So why do I feel so alone? I sit in my unmade bed, dirty bedroom floors. Dried tear marks warming my face but leaving a chill down the front of my shirt. I look back on the life I've lived so far. All the people I've met. And wonder about what it means to love. And to feel so hollow.

High Infidelity having the lyrics "Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes" and " Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life" IS JUST SO FEYSAND???? LIKE????? TELL ME YOU SEE IT TOO. THE ACCURACY. THE AUDACITY

I AM LITERALLY IN TEARS AND SCREAMING