BB Grey–musings

“He fell for her so hard he forgot where he parked his spine—last I checked, she’s still driving it around town.”
— Ring Lardner

Oh, man, haven’t we all been there? You meet someone, and suddenly you’re convinced they’re the whole damn universe—stars, planets, cat’s meow, the works. You hurl yourself into it head over heels, heels over head, like a sock in a tumble dryer with no off switch. Round and round you go, dizzy and dumb, and you don’t even care. This person’s so special you’d scrub their floors with a toothbrush, run their errands in a blizzard, or tattoo their name on your ass—and it doesn’t feel like a chore. No, you *want _

to do it, whenever, wherever, because you’re so drunk on love you’d swear it’s the good whiskey. You’re all in, loving them harder than a sledgehammer loves a wall, thinking they’re the rarest gem in the pile. Meanwhile, you’re over here forgetting you’re a goddamn diamond too—scuffed up, maybe, but still worth a fortune. Hemingway’s right: it’s a gut-punch when you realize you’ve lost your own shine trying to polish someone else’s.