Diary of a Street Diva

always imitated, never duplicated, never new being me could be so complicated

And he kissed me there, in the stolen moments of a Wednesday evening, in a restaurant that felt like his soul, and his kiss tasted sharp and sweet, like the beginning of something new. I smiled against his mouth, and I whispered, "And here I thought you'd find romance in a piece of chocolate.

That was love, wasn't it? It wasn't just a quick drop - it was falling, over and over again, for your person. It was falling as they became new people. It was learning how to exist with every new breath. It was uncertain and it was undeniably hard, and it wasn't something you could plan for. Love was an invitation into the wild unknown, one step at a time together.

Being close to him felt like a story I didn't know the ending to [...] He was an adventure. One I suddenly knew I wanted to take. Without a shadow of a doubt, I wanted this. I wanted him.

You gave me the moon, my darling!" she had said happily. "Oh, what a lovely and impossible gift." She had always told me to chase the moon. To surround myself with people who would lasso it down in a heartbeat.