PHOTO BY ALEX CALDERON
MAKE-UP & WARDROBE BY JENN NEWMAN
How typical, to see you coming with more than enough time to course correct, and still get totally and instantly hooked on the charming and unavailable archetype that I’ve convinced myself would otherwise be a perfect mate.
Except, except, except…
God! I must let you be what you are and untangle my mind from it’s compulsion to make you fit into what I’m sure in this moment is your rightful place beside me. You’re in my head but you’re welcome to stay only for as long and as often as I’m in yours. The choice is mine, and I choose to give you a choice. But darling, your days are numbered.
Because as you are, you are not my perfect fit.
My perfect fit is unattached. Your honesty tests my soul, tempting old habits and teasing out patterns that I know I’ll just have to discard all over again. As mellow as I appear, the anxiety is just beneath my skin, sometimes erupting to the surface in lesions and rashes, in unbridled rage and unexpected tears. In my heart of minds, in my mind of hearts, I knew it was wrong. I recognize your dependency. I wouldn’t be able to re-create the unhealthy dynamic you so clearly crave. It’s maddening to see you sell yourself short. I’ll never be juvenile enough to get away with this kind of thing unscathed. I’m far too self-aware.
I do it anyway.
I guess I needed to satisfy my curiosity, my thirst for knowing. That’s not so hard to understand. I feel gratitude in just knowing you’re out there, to be reminded that when it’s good, it can be really good. I guess you could say I am romantically inspired by your persona. A quick sign from the universe that there’s something to strive towards, even if maybe it’s not with you.
The truth is I still have my own work to do up here. I still have paradigms to shift. But if we can connect like that, and walk away still believing it was real, there’s hope yet.
Repercussions be damned. I want to live.
