In so many millenia, the humans never did figure love out.
How much is physical, how much is the mind?
How much accident and how much fate?
Why did the perfect matches crumble and impossible couples thrive?
I don't know the answers any better than they did.
Love simply is where it is

I'd rather movies quiet and a little thought-provoking, he likes them loud with action.
I'd rather write essays, he'd rather hit the numbers.
I'd rather listen to music that little people know and he listens to the greatest hits of right now.
I'd rather wear my jackets in the sun and shoes that are too big for me, he'd rather look just right.
I'm sometimes a mess and I'm chaotic, he's always put together despite everything.
I leave everything laying around, and he's the first to pick it all up and put it away.
I'm always whining, he's always listening.

we're perfect for each other, just in the weirdest ways.