"Be unassuming. Otherwise, you'll cry."

Why does this bother you?

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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When you can't look at poverty or even tolerate it, is that not privilege? Nothing can change my mind. I don't see 'being triggered' as a valid reason not to accept reality. Poverty exists even when you're living in your middle-class home in Canada. 

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Meaningless weed extremely root bound in your flower bed of perfect people.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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Me — i.e, jpenseur
Skeleton with a cigarette. We talk with no regret. My heart beats fast in a fishbowl. Yours evident from bone to bone. You bring joy from unexpected places. From texts to peculiar faces. I took a smoke to make some time. To wonder whether your question was benign. I go through the same eb and flows. The question of, am I in love? Or is it just the smoke?
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Chinook pushing you away from where I want you to be.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
Whenever I see you, I'm called to do more and to be more in order to somehow pique your interest. To make you think that I'm a basket worth all your eggs. When we interact, it just feels so smooth and effortless, and I don't feel drained after conversations. When you speak, I can't help but admire you. I make an effort to listen even when my attention span is less than desirable; the net benefit for me just feels worth it. When you act all goofy, I want to just cover you in my arms. I daydream about how warm you would make me feel. I so deeply want to run my fingers along your hair and just take time to show you my affection. How wonderful would it be to be together? These, of course, are all just unrealistic desires. I know I can't be with you. There's just too great of a chinook pushing you away from where I want you to be. I do, however, appreciate that I can dream. 
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Me — i.e, jpenseur
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Me — i.e, jpenseur
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Me — i.e, jpenseur
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I'm afraid I'm slowly turning into a monster.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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You can hate me.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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You make room.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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