It takes a certain kind of person to get your hopes up. The kind of person who can nonchalantly brush off heartbreak and equally snap expectations like twigs. It takes a certain kind of person to not only take the hearts that fall haphazardly and oftentimes unannounced into their hands, and squeeze them with such conviction and such strength that they have no choice but to believe deep in their souls something good will come out of it. It takes a certain kind of person to not flinch when the people they let down realise over and over again, with their lips still wet and fingers still laced tightly with un-popped party poppers, that their hearts are no more full, nor better pulsing, but simply bleeding out, and bruised from their anticipation for good things that didn't come.
It also takes a certain kind of person to actively steal other peoples' 50 packs of plastic spoons. It takes an even rarer kind of person to steal peoples' 50 packs of plastic spoons from unwilling glove boxes and then further request MONEY in exchange for their robbery from the said plastic-spoon-pack-owner.
I used to think the kind of people who got your hopes up and the kind of people who stole 50 packs of plastic spoons fell into vastly different categories, but, apparently, I was wrong. That, after three thousand respectively postponed pickup dates and an unfathomably empty glove box, they are the exact same people. Apparently, they are mechanics. #mournformyspoons #tools