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.