A Love Letter to Whiskey

He crossed the room in five long strides. One, I took a breath. Two, I nearly cried. Three, I almost told him to stop. Four, I realized I never could. And five, lightning crashed behind me as Jamie’s lips claimed mine.

All the pieces fall into place,

I believed him when he said that, but sometimes we say things we don’t mean. We may mean them in the moment the words leave our lips, but as time goes on, good intentions get rubbed raw by failed expectations. Those on the promising end forget why they promised at all, hearts jaded — for good reason.

saw him first, but it didn’t matter.

Because he saw her.

The kind of eyes you get lost in. The kind that drink you in.

I saw him first.

“Sometimes we’re more terrified of the good things in life than we are of the bad. We feel we don’t deserve them, or that they aren’t real, that they’ll disappear quickly and easily and we’ll be left in the ruins.”

You know as well as I do that if you give your heart to him, really give it to him, he’d never do anything to hurt you. If anything, it should be him who’s afraid — and clearly he’s not. So what’s the real issue?”

There’s more courage in admitting you love someone and fighting for them than letting them go because it hurts less.

“My mom always told me to never give my heart to a girl with a guy best friend, because her heart isn’t really hers to give in return.”