Chemistry between people defies logic because it’s not something you can pinpoint —it’s the quiet hum between sentences, the way oxygen thickens when they’re near.
Your brain is aware of their presence before you are.
You can memorise someone’s cadence, calibrate your reactions, and construct ideal moments. But real electricity? It arcs, or it doesn’t.
No amount of wishing wires a connection that was never live.
When it’s there: clocks stutter. Your periphery dissolves.
You start speaking a language that didn’t exist yesterday. (Barriers disintegrate)
When it’s not? You could orbit each other for years and never feel the gravitational pull.
Trust can be earned. Intimacy can be built. But this? This is the thunder inside your ribs when they walk into the room.
You don’t create this electric atmosphere. You step into it.
But sometimes, the chemistry is too explosive to survive. But, It’s worth whatever price you’re willing to pay for it.
Time. Vulnerability. Distance. The risk of heartbreak—because you only get one life.
