Diário de Bordo

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I have many crushes. Too many to name, probably.
That boy with pretty bright eyes that I met two weeks ago and the boy that I used to see last summer on the grocery store, the one that never talked to me but always gave me that charming half smile.
I have a crush on the night sky and on the sound of the sea. A crush on Rick because of the incredible work of art he'll carry on his body for the rest of his life and a crush on Dean Winchester's amazing taste in music. A crush on foreign words and accents, on poetry. A crush on the way Dali saw the world and on the Italian Renaissance. A crush on interesting, different, intelligent and quite twisted minds. On intertwined, beautiful, wise, complex thoughts. A crush on everything teal. A crush on that black scarf I bought last winter, a crush on winter itself. A crush on nice handwritings and nice smells. A crush on sunny days and rainny nights. A crush on sleepy, rough voices. A crush on my incredibly wanderlusty state of mind. A crush on well writen sentences on white paper. A crush on the earth.

And then there's you.
The crush that hurts.