12: Dark of night [written 20 August 2015]
Your brain was/is too active. You’re aching to sleep, but these ideas need to be brought to life now…
You weren’t particularly fond of abdominal muscles. You still aren’t. You don’t see what the fuss is. Even though your (conditioned) first thought is, “Wow,” your next thought is always of disgust. Okay, that’s fine. But you like arm muscles, definition on the forearms mostly, and defined collarbones, the only physical appearance weaknesses that you have… –
And what does your ideal guy even look like? Not like him anymore, you guess. The acceptance/letting go stage is finally happening and still, the only things you see in your ideal guy right now are his collarbones…but you’d like to see the muscles of the forearms. You want to be enveloped by his warmth and his aura. You want to feel loved. Read too much romance, but this is essentially what you want. Write about the ideal guy before you go to sleep with tears in your eyes and the saddest song on Earth possible because that’s the way your brain wants it today.
Your ideal guy? Tall, strong, handsome, well defined jawline, well defined forearm muscle, defined collarbones, eyes that you can describe in perfect detail in any notebook that you own, an infectious smile, laugh, incredibly intelligent (cannot forget the intelligence, that is the most important one), talented, friendly, gives incredible hugs, and someone who would consider it a privilege to have his heart broken by you (I’m being uselessly unrealistic here).
Because in the end, you’re going to realise that while he is perfect, you are not perfect enough for him, and your insecurities are going to be the death of you. You’re going to push him away and you will come to regret it. You’re planning how you’re going to spend your days of melancholia, hiding in a guest room of a house you’ve bought with your own money, writing about wild fantasies and sad love poems, even though you hate poems. You’re going to hate yourself (actually you probably already do). You have a feeling that in your book of melancholia, there will be great detail about first kisses, and kisses after the first, the first hug, and many more to come after those ones, and it’s heartbreaking. Very much so.
P.S. There is this common theme with the goddamn guest rooms lol
How crazy can you get?
Pretty crazy, sorry.
Don’t be sorry.
I still am.