in a hundred words.

You sit next to me and strangely talk about first kisses for some reason. About that magical moment with the one you love, the one that usually involves fireworks and bells on a rooftop in Paris.

The thing is, first kisses are subjective. My first kiss was probably lost to my parents eighteen years ago when they first held me in their arms.

But you’re talking about that kind of first kiss, and I’m hard-pressed to be honest. Because I don’t care about fireworks and bells on a rooftop in Paris. As long as it’s with you, it’ll be magical. 

(Source: nakimushi, via raindropsandsunspots)