Whenever you have an honest conversation with someone for the first time, and you really look at them, do you notice the strange way the muscles in their faces pull and stretch as soon as they let their guard down?
Once I catch it -that minuscule moment of vulnerability- I realize that this person has, at one point in life, looked in the mirror and questioned the entire purpose of his/her creation. From that moment on, I'll always try to draw out the conversation just to see that tiny detail again and I become so captivated, almost to the point of madness. I guess it's the idea of something so trivial altering the edifice of perfection altogether. I just want them to get in my head and realize how important they really are.
After which, a mental note becomes permanently tucked away in one of my brain pockets, and I never look at that person without those feelings suddenly resurfacing. I believe this is what they call sentimentalism.
We're all intricate and so amazingly simple all at once that it causes my head to spin off its axis from time to time.
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