warmcappuccino
we born to be sad
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ANYA FORGER 🧡
SPY X FAMILY Ep. 03: Prepare for the Entrance Exam
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Each year overflowing.
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Beautiful moments [18.11.2021]
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my hands shake too hard, so you help me hang the new painting. the music from the phone in your back pocket is singing about hating winters in california.
i’m wine drunk. “no,” i’m saying, “you don’t get it. crows, like, have a sense of their own thought process.” a little bit of the paint chips off under my fingernail.
you ask me if i think crows can fall in love. i say they are only made from love. you ask me if i think crows love like how people love. i say: i don’t know anything about love enough to answer that.
we stand back to see if it’s hanging even. it isn’t but it’s heavy so we just stand there for a second, looking at the skewed frame. “do you really think that?” you ask. look at me just out of the corner of your eye. like if you look too closely i’ll cry. the way things have been lately, i don’t know either.
“skewed isn’t used enough,” i say. “skewed is a good word.”
“because i think a lot of people love you.” you reach out and shift the thing a little to the left. now it’s off-center in the other way.
i don’t think that’s true, i almost say. “yeah, i know.”
you take my hand. “a lot of people,” you say again. “like. maybe it isn’t what you were expecting. maybe they don’t know how to do it loudly or they don’t know how to do it where you can see or that you don’t know how to look for it. but.” you turn me so i have to look into your eyes, so big and bright and caring - “a lot of people love you if you just… start noticing.”
i can’t look at you like that too long. all beautiful and soft and vulnerable. i break away and straighten the painting. “i just want the romance!” i say, trying to make my tone joking, knowing i sound like i’m choking.
“you don’t need it.” you get the other side angled correctly. now it is perfect. we are so close i can feel the heat of your skin and see the reflection of the art in your iris. your hand holds my cheek; cool and soothing. “you are a romantic already. romanticize existing. go on a date with joy. go on a picnic with surviving. you are so lovely, and loving you feels effortless and easy.”
i wish that were true. i try to make a joke. “oh, did a crow tell you that? how do you know?”
“i know,” you say. i can’t help the feeling in the back of my throat, an ache so wide it’s no longer wanting, it’s dissolving. the color of your eyes takes up all of my mind until it’s just a swathe of you.
“you’re so easily loved,” you repeat. you run your cold thumb over my cheek. “i know. i know. i know. you gotta just trust me.”
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