intrigue you.

[April 11, 2011]

Which is kind of like a lie. Because I really do like you, if liking someone means wanting to take away all of their pain and hold them as they fall asleep, if it means praying to see them smile and needing to kiss them into a saccharine stupor. i could watch you for hours and be content, even if you were doing the most mundane uninteresting tasks (like usual). I’ve told you all this garbage about my preferences, which I guess you think is important to me, but in all honesty that’s just some trifling bullshit compared to how much I appreciate how… real you are. You have this unnerving knack for telling me I look pretty the absolute moment after I think I look gross — Like, absolutely disgusting — and you say it so tentatively like “Can I tell you you look pretty?” as if I would run you into the ground for saying something so blasphemous to the boundraries I’ve pigheadedly set up. Literally, EVERY TIME, EVERY SINGLE STUPID TIME I’ve ever gotten self concious in front of you, the universe makes you open your mouth to tell me I’m beautiful and I can see you mean it so I have to hide the utter shock and dismay and delight that would light up my face and supress the intense desire to wrap my arms around your neck and tell you that you are a blind and foolish idiot but thank you thank you being that way for me, you stupid little boy with horrible taste in women. I want to tell you that you are beautiful, but not for any reason society has spoonfed you about having a six pack or a nice jaw line or being tall because that’s not what’s beautiful about you — what’s beautiful about you is how, as a big man, you sit like a boy with a small frame and I can see the years of your insecurities when you hunch your shoulders inward, how your face muscles clench in defiance when you are upset or confused or angry, how I can’t look into your eyes sometimes because they bore into my silly existence and leave hot haunting holes filled with the something/nothing of your memory.

You think I’m not physically attracted to you and I’m going to go ahead and let you believe that because that is one of the final obstacles against writing the story of Us. I wouldn’t normally be physically attracted to you if I saw you on the street, but wouldn’t you feel the same way about me? All I know is that right now — it’s so difficult to control myself around you… to burn the mental image — of jumping into your lap and holding your face atoms away from mine and staring you hard and fast in the eye to tell you “I love you, now I dare you to do something about it”— milliseconds after the thought, as if there is a disconnect between my motor control and my synapses and my muscles when you’re in my presence. You’re right, I’m a coward, but because I can’t give myself up to this loss of control and believe that I will be content with where fate takes me with you. I can’t give myself to you and I’m not good enough for you. My intentions, my feelings, my body are so far from good enough for you.

We don’t know each other, ok, we don’t know the menial tribulations of each other’s awkward pasts but what we have is the tragic and glorified present — the end result of the lives we lived not knowing each other, and what we know is that there is an unspeakble intangible …thing between us that threatens to consume and ravage us wholly for no real reward.

I “don’t like you” because I know after a little bit of thought and deliberation you won’t like me. You’ll see the whole situation as another ploy by Life, cruel puppeteer, to wear down and confuse us humans. I’ll be just another girl, a pristine page in your little black book, different from all the rest and yet inherently the same. But you were, are, truly different for me, and you’ll know you were, because I’ve never had anyone as bold or brave as you try to cast their affections on me. It is my good fortune and one of my deepest regrets that you cared about me in such a way. We’re wrong for each other but you’re so perfect, love. So perfect.

I don’t like you because … (forgive me for being rash but it’s because…) a part of me will always love you. So much.