a brief note to nobody in particular (with bonus meteorological metaphors)

February 23, 2015

my friend,

how the fuck are you so fucking gorgeous? It’s one of those days where I have a little bit of a mad crush on you. these happen occasionally. it’s not your fault. you’ve done and said nothing; I just possess the innate ability to fall head over heels in love with people with very little provocation, if left unchecked, and you’ve unfortunately stood yourself in the path of that hurricane tendency. and when I say stood yourself I mean you appeared in my dream which happens to everyone eventually, and I remembered you were distractingly attractive. again: not your fault. mine. sorry.

you really are remarkably good-looking, though, and I’ve had on-and-off crushes on you for as long as I’ve known you, which is annoying; it’s hard not looking people in the eye when making conversation. I find crushes to be generally inconvenient things; life is far easier when you’re not fancying everyone, or anyone, or someone different every month, or the same person for a handful of months until the weather shifts. it’s why I often cauterise that entire aspect of myself. I was functionally aromantic and asexual until two days ago, and comfortable with it.

oh well. these things just happen, capricious and ridiculous as rainstorms. it should blow over quickly; I’ve gotten good at keeping my sky clear of debris. but while I’m here: I like your nature and your complicated wit, I like your smile, I like your shoulders and your lovely mouth and your hands, your perceptiveness and creativity, your reserve, your opinions on books and your clever, thoughtful eyes. you’re a gorgeous human being and I’ll get over it. don’t take my declarations of attraction as declarations of intention; they’re not. they’re just observations from a place of resignation, while I wait out the weather.

this, after all, changes nothing. I’m not a farmer. my life has never been dependent on meteorological conditions.

much love-

your friend.

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