"Be unassuming. Otherwise, you'll cry."
Me — i.e, jpenseur
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These days, I have been so disenchanted by the idea of love. I have been realizing how weak it could be. How it buckles under pressure. How it's disappointing when you have so much hope for it. Love isn't what I used to think it is. It's just another concept human beings seem to have failed miserably at. Love is a utopia, and utopias don't exist. 

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

Me — i.e, jpenseur
  Lately, I've been feeling extremely aggravated by how you've been acting. On the few occasions where we can interact, you make an effort to be avoidant. Why is that? What's the point of you being around if we aren't even trying to bond or get along? Am I just overthinking this? Am I simply jealous of what others have with you? You know, I've been very insecure about how I should go about approaching you; it feels like any wrong move will split us farther apart. I know you don't hate me, but I hate this stagnation in our relationship. The root of all this frustration is I can't seem to connect with you, and any effort to try will only make things worse. On top of all that, I think you're purposeful; and the knowledge of my fragility does not bother you. I started feeling like you don't want me at all in any context, like I'm a burden, worthless, just some meaningless weed extremely root bound in your flower bed of perfect people. I feel like an ...
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Blurbs of Indication

Me — i.e, jpenseur
I look at you unapologetically. I say outlandish blurbs of indication.  I give gifts right from the heart.  I laugh at your soliloquies. When you went in for a hug, I almost gave in discomfort.  I wish I had raised the white flag.  I don't know much, but I do know one thing. I want things to work out.   
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Vincent van Gogh

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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The Martyr

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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Prayed for religion.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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You can hate me.

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 make room.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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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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