505 days ~ irwin

409 days before

Ashton 

22:52

We went straight back to our everyday, same time, roof routine. I forgave her for missing a day without notice. And we went back to normal. I think she has smoked more cigarettes on this roof than there are stars in the sky right now. I think that she has more nail varnish chippings from when she was bored and wasn't realizing what she was doing than there people in this town. She has enough beauty to share with the world and more. You'll never meet someone like her. I am aware that almost everyone says that, but in this case; I have not yet ran into someone that is nearly as similar as Brinley. Not even the smallest fraction, or nearest tenth of a decimal. Which is probably why all my romantic relationships come to a  terrible and traumatic ending. Simply because the only person that I want, romantically, emotionally, physically, and everything in between and more, was her. It was always her, and it will always be her. My 19 years of life and she is the most unique person that I have ever met. 

Maybe it's the chocolate brown wavy hair that always fell to her hips. How perfect and incredibly soft they felt between my own fingers. Or even when it's in the laziest, nonchalant bun, with baby hairs going every direction. The french braids down the back had to be the cutest. She could do more physical activity that way. Like breaking into schools and running away without telling anybody. 

Maybe it was her very light blue eyes. Sky blue tones, and ocean accents. They were so detailed, almost like god spent a little extra time on her. A swatch of the sky and waters combined. I fell in love every single time she would make eye contact with me. I'm a sucker for eyes, and hers are the most loveliest pair I've seen.

Maybe it's when she's angry, and she gets that dimple in the middle of her forehead. When she furrows her thick, dark brown brows that were always perfectly groomed. She would scold me, and the indent would be prominent as ever. Or even her lights spots beside her dimples. They're hard to see unless she smiles wide, or you get as close to her face as I like to sometimes. How she tries to cover them with foundation, but no matter the brand, colour, undertone. It never goes away. It's there to stay, and it's apart of her. Kind of resembles me, in a way. It just made her harder to take seriously whilst she's pissed with me and scramming profanities at the top of her lungs. 

Possibly it's how she acts similar to a five year old. But a quite a literate five year old. How she will ignore you for days without reason, then come knocking on your window asking you what kind of snacks you have. How she'll complain about the lack of cuddles that she will rarely ask for anyways. She'll always make me tuck her in, like a little baby. Lights on, never off until she's in the stage of her sleep where she is deeply unconscious. Or maybe that she still dresses like a three year old, as well. The black overalls, pastel top underneath, and vintage converse that spent one too many days playing in the mud and jumping in fresh puddles. Fashion was and is a very big thing for her. 

There's so much I can try to explain. So much of the criteria that no one else fits. I always catch myself losing count how many times I've fallen in love with her, over and over and over again. Or perhaps it's not that. Maybe, just maybe, I keep falling and falling. Hitting the ground at an alarming rate each and every time. There's no stopping. There's nothing to catch you, not even her. There is no safety net, or soft and comforting ground underneath you. There is no such thing as a an undo button, or a stop, or trail that leads you out of the dark. But there is a million stop signs aligning the sides, they populate more and more the farther you get. But no matter the struggle, there is no point in reaching towards them. Because there is no getting off, or stop that will grab you. Once you have fallen, you are there for good. No turning back once you hear that giggle from across the room. That devilish fucking smirk in the corner of your eye. I mean, how couldn't you notice her? Her outfit just screams to be looked at. Her scent is exactly how you expect infatuation to smell like. 

You know the feeling when you miss a step on the stairs. And you swear you were about to pass out because that feeling in the pits of your stomach just dropped? That is what I constantly feel every second being with Brinley. She is like a drug that you don't want to get addicted to, but you know you will without even knowing what happens in the end. Good or bad, I haven't decided yet. But maybe in the future I will. Hopefully that day will come soon, because if I continue on like this. I won't be able to get out for the rest of the time that I live and every waking moment that I spend on this earth will be wanting to be spent with her. 

Long story short, Brinley Reynolds will fuck you up real good.