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

My life in some attempt of summation.

Me — i.e, jpenseur
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My life in some attempt of summation, has been the lack of space. A safe space to be deep, intellectual, vulnerable. I think subcontiously, that's why I started writing. It's easier to feel when I'm not calculating. When I'm raw, and entirely honest. I can hate without feeling like I shouldn't. I can be passionate without being too much. It's like a personal study or library where I'm free to scream on top of my lungs. I can be everything. Guarded and powerful. Hopeful and cynical. Logical and emotional. My life in some attempt of summation. 

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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
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Me — i.e, jpenseur
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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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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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