14. we all have dreams that won’t come true

so you’ve come back.
i’ve seen you with my own eyes today, the unruly curls of your hair falling on your face just slightly.
never a fan of curly hair, i don’t know why i’m meant to find you attractive. thought, you know, there is a delicate beauty in the sharpness of the contours of your face, the cheekbones protruding outwards, upwards, making a clean sweep. 

but you know, a concept of beauty was always alien to me. say what you will, but i can barely look at X and he’s your typical handsome guy, your typical ain’t-he-a-good-looking-boy. 

if i think about it, i’ve never seen a man who i could not find a bad feature in, physically or otherwise. 

i ask for too much.
i ask for the impossible. and oddly, sometimes i get it.

i told myself that this year i’d expect a little less. that i wouldn’t ask for what i can’t give back, but i now realise that was always the case. i never took without giving, no matter how little i was given. and yet, there was always just one thing i knew i’d never give wholly – myself. i could give a part of myself without a problem, but to give the whole of oneself – the dreams, the pain, the hopes and fears, the memories and future, the past and present… no, that i would not give.

i’m sure i could if i tried.
anything, with a little bit of determination and skill, is possible.

but i’m my own woman.
you wouldn’t want me if i wasn’t, so that’s ok. nor would Y or X or Z. the whole of my entourage seems to love me because i seem invincible.
you know that.
i know that. 
we both know that, really, you’re in love with an idea of an independent woman and i’m in love with the idea of a man making me dependent, tying me down in such a way that i don’t even know he’s doing it until it was too late.

we all have dreams.

we all have dreams that won’t come true.