Aseel

She’s not someone you meet—you feel.

Gentle in ways that sneak up on you, full of warmth and wonder, and somehow always a little brighter than the room around her and how I feel my whole world and existence through her eyes, eyes that are beautiful amd make me undone all in the same breath.

These songs that make them feel seen , the sketches that felt like portraits of someone I used to look at before I went to sleep, this entire space… they’re all moments of someone who once asked for a story to fall asleep to and ended up becoming the story. This isn’t about grand gestures, it’s just a quiet thank you for the way she made the world feel softer when she was in it.

Soft in her laughter, sharp in her words with her Cali accent, impossible not to notice.

The kind of presence that lingers in a room long after she’s left or echoes of your in your head after singing ‘‘furthest thing from perfect” together by acapella style in your car.

Denying how this would be like denying how the white guy in Shogun looks like Tom Hardy

One of my deepest regrets is not kissing your neck right after I put that necklace on you before we went out