Tried to convince myself she wasn’t for me.
That bringing her into my world would ruin her.
That I’d be the thing that breaks something good and steady.
But none of that matters when she’s this close.
Close enough that I can breathe her in.
Something light. Floral. Sweet. Innocent.
It wraps around me, gets under my skin, and suddenly I’m not thinking about contracts or deadlines or the millions of people waiting on my next move.
I’m thinking about her. Only her.
And it’s driving me out of my damn mind.
Because what I feel around her?
It’s not normal.
It’s not just physical.
Yeah, I want her.
Badly.
But it’s more than that.
It’s deeper.
Quieter. But louder at the same time.
Like something that was dead inside me just woke up and chose violence.
Every time I think about her, I hear it.
Music.
Not the forced shit I’ve been pushing out.
Not the hollow, overproduced noise meant to fill stadiums.
Something real.
Something raw.
Something wicked.
A beat that actually means something.
She did that.
She walked into my life and flipped a switch I didn’t even know was still there.
She makes me remember why I started this in the first place.
Back when I was a kid in the Bronx, crammed into that tiny apartment with my abuela, headphones barely working, dreaming about creating something that made people feel.