Discourse and Coffee

“He looks at me in a very unusual way, you know, that kind of look that makes you feel like you matter. I mean, I get nervous around him, his aura does things to me.  With all honesty and truthfulness, one gaze from him and all I can think of is how much I want to keep that smile on his face. But of course, I have my own confusions. For instance, there’s a tremendous amount of ambiguity surrounding him. I’m shrewd, I can read people easily but it’s just not the case with him. It’s difficult to explain what he portrays. He is one of those people that make you feel like they’re too simple to even attempt to understand and before you know it, you’re in bed thinking he’s the most perplex you’ve ever had to deal with.” Bemused, I explained.

“Maybe you interest him, maybe he’s intrigued by how different you are. Have you ever considered that?!”  She asked enthusiastically.

I was stunned to hear her say that, it’s daunting to think that she might be even slightly right. That it’s our points of disparity that makes us what we are to each other. It’s ironic how even I cannot define what we are or what we mean to one another.
“It cannot possibly be that! He’s just, he’s lively, He likes the dynamic aspect of life, that ever changing state of stability. I can’t even begin to tell you how fascinated he is by sleepless cities and crowded streets. The time I spend immersed in my novels late at night, he spends dancing  and letting go, detaching, one fret at a time. It really can’t be that; he’s like a sunny summer day on the beach and I’m a cloudy day in November.”

“What if you’re the calm to his chaos? The cloudy day he needs after burning too bright? You know how they say opposites attract!” She said while banging her empty mug on the wooden table.

Good God, she might be right. “No, it couldn’t be. Here’s the thing, you might think a person like him is initiative, proactive, talkative, but he isn’t at all. He’s quiet, like I am, passionate about having an escape from reality just as I am.” I answered, uncertain of my own thoughts, unaware of my emotions.

“You fool, I wish you could see how your eyes light up when you talk about him.” Agonized, she added “You feel this insane pull towards him but you don’t dare to give in, why? Because his wild eyes awaken your lustfulness? Because you can’t fully scrutinize what he is made of? Because he terrifies your frail little heart? Hold his hand, pull him closer and tell him what you truly desire.”

I smiled, “maybe I will..”

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