They say that people are born with a red string that they can’t see, tied to their pinky fingers, and the end is tied to the one you’re fated to be with. But the thread is twisted this way and that, making it hard to find the other end.
First love is reckless. Without calculating, it throws everything in with pure passion, and inevitably fails, but that’s why it’s dramatic. The reckless tales wrapped up in experiences or feelings that you can never have again.
The reason I like you? Because it’s you. Just you. That’s the only reason. I wish I knew, then I could figure out how to stop liking you. If I can’t avoid it, I only want one thing. To stay as a friend who doesn’t change. For heartache. For love.