— Fisher Amelie, Thomas & January (via longlivejava)
Thinking back on it, I’ve only truly loved the people who could make me laugh. Deep, painful laughter that you can remember five years later and still snort out a laugh and smile to yourself.
Laughter is personal. Knowing how to get someone to do something they can’t control- knowing them so well, you could make them yell or cry or not say anything for the rest of the night, but choosing to make them happier- that’s a rare thing.
People make you laugh because they want to see you happy.
The only person I’ve ever truly loved wasn’t the perfect choice. We were as much different as we were the same, there were more attractive people out there, we could have studied the same thing and had the same kinds of dreams about the future but we didn’t.
But we could make each other laugh, at any time, in any situation. I made him laugh at his father’s funeral. Maybe someone people would think that’s inappropriate, but others might understand that that was exactly what he needed.
We could make each other yell and scream and cry and make each other so mad we wouldn’t talk to each other for weeks.
The friends he had that I didn’t like ended up screwing him over, and now he hates them too.
The friends I had who he hated ended up screwing me over, and now I hate them too.
We weren’t always nice to each other. We were never polite or politically correct and we didn’t think about things before we said them, because that’s how we were.
We knew each other. We pushed each other until we knew exactly where the lines were that we shouldn’t cross. We could look at each other from across the room and know what they were thinking. If I slept on the couch, he’d carry me to bed, even if we were fighting.
We understood each other. Maybe too well. We pushed each other, and it was exciting and different from everyone else we had dated, but we pushed too hard. It became a challenge to be around each other. Sometimes the only people who can make things better are strangers, because they don’t know all the bad parts to you already.
We hurt each other more than anyone else. We were passionate, and that takes you to great highs and new lows. You’re never safe with a passionate love.
Is it better to stay with someone who’s polite and careful about what they say around you? Someone who you look perfect with in pictures and who you don’t get to fights with, so you never go weeks without speaking or sleep on the couch. Is it better to find someone who loves all your friends and is as shocked as you are when they turn out to be assholes? Is it better to be safe than to be sorry?