She untangled my fingers from my glass of wine and placed it on the kitchen island as she linked her arms around my neck, and that’s when I realized that all this time, all this fucking time I was chasing her, I was actually loving her. I loved her when I hated her. And I loved her when I didn’t want anything to do with her. I was so crazy about her, the lines had blurred together. Feelings were mixed, emotions twisted together. I was stealing her pens and pencils, when actually, I was desperate for her words. All of them. Every letter and syllable. Every silly doodle. It was clear to me then,
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