The story goes always goes like this: I wake up in the morning and get to my day. Eat some breakfast, brush my hair, wear my earphones, and smoke away. It gets boring talking to familiar faces. An overused idea I usually call brand new tickles me in places. It’s the season for love on another bland day. No better time than now to induce multiple heartbreaks.
Call it wishful thinking, I call it fun. Swipe left, swipe right, block a few, hold tight—you know how it runs. Let’s fall into a conversation, and please keep me entertained. I’m only here for a moment, and somehow you want me to stay. These silly people forget to read my lines. It’s a scripted process, one that shouldn’t have consequences or fines. Perhaps if they didn’t manage to waste my time, then maybe my departure from their airports wouldn’t feel like a crime.
I beg for a different dialogue. The kind where forever doesn’t fit in the equation. It wears me out when you want to glue the plugs tight, when you haven’t even asked a single valuable question. Forgive my merciless expectations, but I’ve been ruined before. I’ve bled for forevers that only left me sore. Call me a heartbreaker, if you’d like. It’s not my fault that you feel entitled to an experience that’s meant to be light.
Perhaps it is mindless and cruel for me to deny a lifetime chance of seemingly good promises. Negligence is a struggle I usually find in the emptiest of wishes. Convince me that tossing your coin in my fountain is truly the fortune that it seems to be. Commitment has its obvious pitfalls, and compromise is the hidden key. Meet me halfway where it counts, because I’m willing to wait if it means you’re willing to take it slow. I hope I’m not your first, because I only trust those who’ve seen the whole show. I’ve seen many masks make terrible first impressions, and this is something I expect my lovers to know.
So for as long as I’m disappointed, understand that you’ve become another one of my thrills — a prescription for lovesickness manufactured carefully into happy pills. Doctors won’t recommend a drug so strong, knowing that suggesting a one-night conversation is something that’s wrong. Be a part of my medicine cabinet for as long as you please. Juggle like a jester, giggle like a clown, or tumble like a fool—anything that can put me at ease. Turn that frown upside down, since you’re not the only one in this circus. Look at me, for instance: a body painted in make up, filled with blood and guts, lacking in purpose.
But let’s be real, I’ve grown tired of people with no substance. From the first “hello" to the last “goodnight", there is unbearable distance. I’m cold within reason until you give me a good deal. Warmth is earned—it’s not something you should steal.
Because I’ve had a thousand crushes right of the bat, it might seem that I have a long record of loving people in the wrong season.
I also once had a thousand excuses to find romance at the drop of a hat, yet I found men who became boys I loved for no reason.