I mean, I don't think anyone who falls in love with someone is concerned about the reprocussions that such a feat might entail. And the paper trail that it will inevitably leave behind.
I am pretty sure I've been in love more times than I should have at the age of 25. I have the an over active heart that just wants to give, and give, and give. I don't set boundaries. Restrictions and limitations are always the last thing I consider when someone interests me. So I guess you could say I get what I deserve, that I deserve the emotional torture that I put myself through. It's just that I am battling in an inward struggle of how true that is. I mean, yeah.. I have a tendency to be a bit over zealous, over giving, over compensating, over the fucking moon nice and bend over backwards for you.
But why is that so bad? Why am I the target for discussion? Us, the over populated mass of hopelessly pessimistic romantics. Do you really think that I haven't already thought of every angle you're going to throw at me? Every curveball? Please. Don't under estimate the emotional vacancy I showcase for the world to rent out, if even just for the night.
We are what we are. Stop picking on us.
If you really want to dissect something, let me counteract with a rebuttal as to why you never let me see how you are really feeling? Why is it so difficult to simply tell me I'm pretty when I'm not? Or that I look beautiful after I've smeared my mascara across my face after watching Eternal Sunshine for the bajillionth time? Why is it so hard for you to just.. be there when we need you? Are you mechanically rennovated? Was your heart reconstructed with a lack of elastiscity? Tell me! My eager heart can only bare so much.
We are the emotionally available. Because face it, no one else is going to listen to complain till three o'clock in the morning about how your Barista this morning messed up your coffee therefore creating a downward spiral of disaster all whilst holding your hand, kissing your neck, and absorbing every ounce of your energy and diluting it into something more pure.. Love.
So stop with the jokes, stop with the brute. I am a pushover for a long kiss goodnight and that four hours after that I'll be dreaming and wishing you were lying next to me. That you grabbed my face a little harder. That you wrapped your arms around my waist and pulled me in closer. That you kissed so gently I wasn't sure when you had started kissing me, and when we stopped and just stared awkwardly amazed looking into eachothers eyes.
EXCUSE ME FOR MY FAIRYTALES, BUT I WILL NOT APOLOGIZE.
