Sometimes he was lucky enough not to dream of her. He dreamt of fiction; of a faceless future with which to fasten his faith. A form that held curls and soft skin but never managed eyes; the love of eventually that was just perfect enough to live for. She granted him the gift he dreamed of, the chance to unload his heart without consequence, a someone he could fall apart in front of in intimacy and tell just how much it had hurt, just how much he had loved her, and explain it wasn’t that other kind of love that teenagers gossip of in hallways it was this kind, and she’d know because she would, and because some kinds of love are like deep sea fish whose lights are blank in daylight. If she could give him this he could become hers, could become someone’s again. If she could be strong enough to bear the ice of jealousy, determined enough to listen to ten months of love she’d never feel he could be hers and give her ten years more; but who could do that. Could he? Could he if he really cared, if he'd dreamt of the girl like he’d dreamt of this one?
I'm writing this because I just watched the music video to "Watermelon Sugar" by Harry Styles and...it was really good. Frankly, this is somewhat upsetting. I've never liked Harry Styles before, I've always found him pretentious and irritating. Why then, has he just encapsulated all of my fantasies as a mixed Latino man in a three minute music video? Do y'all know? I'm quite confused.