I like that you write beautiful words, and I also like that I am trying
I think it's funny when you ask me if your pants match your shirt
The creators of Star Trek put a horn on a dog and pretended it was an alien, but nobody cared because people don't watch Star Trek just because they like the way the aliens look
I don't like you just because your pants match your shirt, either
I pretend that I am interested in every word that leaves your sometimes chapped lips, but if we are being honest, (and we are) I don't particularly care about a lot of things
You don't always pretend that you are interested in me
Sometimes that will irk me, but most of the time I like it because it means you are not a pretender
I would like to become less of a pretender, I think. I haven't quite decided though
Your eyes tend to shred me
S-H-R-E-D
I don't melt, or get the butterflies, or even get the warm and fuzzies
I just shred
Each time I look at you a small piece of myself just slips off
I imagine it flutters to wherever pieces of people usually go
It's slightly terrifying because what if one day there isn't enough of me to take you in?
What if I become too small, too shredded, to process what the funny freckles on your nose look like when you laugh?
What if I can't internalize the smell of that lime green soccer jersey that I hate so much?
You don't even like soccer
I like you though, and if you don't like soccer then maybe I don't either
If you don't like me, then maybe I don't either
But then again, that would be so silly to like you, a separate being, if I didn't even like my own self, now wouldn't it?
Now wouldn't it.
I think it's funny when you ask me if your pants match your shirt
The creators of Star Trek put a horn on a dog and pretended it was an alien, but nobody cared because people don't watch Star Trek just because they like the way the aliens look
I don't like you just because your pants match your shirt, either
I pretend that I am interested in every word that leaves your sometimes chapped lips, but if we are being honest, (and we are) I don't particularly care about a lot of things
You don't always pretend that you are interested in me
Sometimes that will irk me, but most of the time I like it because it means you are not a pretender
I would like to become less of a pretender, I think. I haven't quite decided though
Your eyes tend to shred me
S-H-R-E-D
I don't melt, or get the butterflies, or even get the warm and fuzzies
I just shred
Each time I look at you a small piece of myself just slips off
I imagine it flutters to wherever pieces of people usually go
It's slightly terrifying because what if one day there isn't enough of me to take you in?
What if I become too small, too shredded, to process what the funny freckles on your nose look like when you laugh?
What if I can't internalize the smell of that lime green soccer jersey that I hate so much?
You don't even like soccer
I like you though, and if you don't like soccer then maybe I don't either
If you don't like me, then maybe I don't either
But then again, that would be so silly to like you, a separate being, if I didn't even like my own self, now wouldn't it?
Now wouldn't it.
