Minds on Fire

She’s smart as hell. There’s no other way to put it. The kind of smart that doesn’t just know things but gets things. She sees through people, through situations—hell, sometimes I think she sees straight through me.

And that’s new.

I’ve never had a girlfriend who could understand me the way she does. Not just the surface-level stuff, like what I like or how I think, but the deeper shit—the things I don’t even say out loud. She just knows.

It’s fucking brilliant. And terrifying.

But here’s the thing: I’m no slouch either. I’ve always been the one people turn to for answers, the one who can figure things out, see the patterns no one else does. That’s me. It’s who I am. And for the first time, I’m with someone who doesn’t just keep up—she challenges me.

Is that a good thing? Two minds like ours, sharp and stubborn, constantly pushing and pulling? Does intelligence create connection, or does it complicate the hell out of everything?

She’d probably have an answer for that. Something sharp, laced with wit, designed to make me laugh and hate her brilliance at the same time.

And that’s the thing—I don’t just admire her mind. I love it. Even when it’s infuriating. Especially when it’s infuriating.

But there’s a danger in this too, isn’t there? When someone can see all of you—your strengths, your weaknesses, the little cracks you’ve tried to cover up. It’s a gift, but it’s also a mirror.

I wonder if she ever thinks about this. Does she see my mind the way I see hers? Does she lie awake sometimes, wondering how two people so sharp can soften each other’s edges?

I wanted to ask her, but the words wouldn’t come. Not yet. Instead, I let the thought simmer, waiting for the right moment. Because if I know one thing, it’s that she’ll have something to say.

And when she does, it’ll be fucking perfect.