Real Bromance.

Sharv's a big Indian guy who plays rugby and chain smokes.

I'm a petite Eurasian girl who can't stop bouncing around.

Sharv has biceps as large as my entire head and can singlehandedly push my car uphill with Chris in it.

I wear spectacles, have lactose intolerance and countless allergies.

We couldn't be more different.

Yet he takes the time to talk to my youngest sister who's six years younger than us and to put up with my constant mood swings. He reassures me that I'm 'just not fat' and when I don't believe him, in a completely believable tone free of exasperation he finds ways to reassure me that I'm beautiful or sexy or whatever I need to feel at the moment.

I'm so lucky to have him in my life.

It's over.

My first job ever. I'm done. Well, sort of. I'm technically still employed but since I'd never taken leave, I've gotten all of my leave now so I'm kinda finished with everything a little earlier.

I really did enjoy the experience. I hated closing with a passion and I disliked dealing with crabby people constantly, but the whole thing did me good in the end. I just can't believe that it's all over, though.

I met a bunch of incredible people, lovely people who taught me how to work hard and have fun while doing it. I made a new group of friends with diverse personalities and backgrounds. The whole thing was a real eye-opener and I'm glad my aunt jumped me into it and that dad supported me the whole way. (:

I'll definitely miss everyone I'd met but I'm ready to move into a brand new phase of life.

I have discovered a heretofore untouched streak of sentimentality.

I've been feeling a little more wistful lately. I've spent hours skimming through novels with romantic subplots with restless energy, hunting down the elusive quixotic threads that my usually pragmatic nature skips over. I've bookmarked pages with amorous declarations, the spines of these books wearing thin with repeated folding out.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.” - Neil Gaiman 

Everyone around me seems to be falling prey to this mysterious malady of courtship. I'm just wondering when my turn will be. Not because I need reassurance that I am flawless in someone's eyes, but because I want to be able to lean on someone for a while. To rest my bones against theirs in comfort and silence. To forget, to lose track of time, to heal from the hectic humdrum of everyday life.