Imploding Hearts is So Last Summer.

I have a knack for knowing how to make good, close, platonic friends with guys. It comes from having honed pathetic skills in flirting and instead have relegated myself to actually getting to know them as a person. It’s a slow and steady process and before you know it we’ve hit the Friends Zone and he’s telling you about his crush much to your sad pitter-pattering heart. Your heart feels like it’s about to implode, sucking in your limbs into the cavernous squeeze of warmth to the left of your chest. Letters in a song begin to make more sense that it ought to.

I can cope with “just friends”. Honey, there’s nothing new there.

I have been told that my love life makes for a very entertaining read. It is a barren road with remnants of candy hearts and hershey kisses, shrapnel if you will, of my failure to launch. So partly inspired by haikus and pineapples, I shall divulge the titillating tales of my exciting love life.

Don’t worry. It never ends in a heartbreak.

Just implosions.