Maybe,
you don't like rain as much as I do. And I would hate that about you because when the sun is hiding I'd spent the days looking outside, sitting by the window, but your mood won't be the best and you'd rather sit on your bed with your laptop and not saying a single word.
Maybe,
you don't like coffee, and you prefer tea. And you would frown in the mornings because you don't like the smell of coffee all over our house and you would spend an hour talking about how tea is better than coffee.
Maybe,
you don't like night trips, and the idea of losing ourselves in the darkness of the night and the coldness of the city, driving with no direction and the music so loud our hearts can feel it and beat at the same time, and I'd get mad at you, and you'd get mad at me, because I'd always ask you to runaway with me, to get lost, even though I know your answer.
Maybe,
you don't like my music taste and I don't like yours, and we'd always be fighting because you'd want to play your music on sunday mornings and I'd want to play mine, and you'd laugh at me saying how much you hate my stupid music and I'd do the same to you, and it'd be the same story every morning.
But even if you are completely different from who I think you are, I would find a way to love every single thing of you.
