let me break the news to you, as simply as i can...
i don't need anything from you. i really don't.
there may be a laundry list of things i'd like to have from you, would LIKE TO HAVE, or share, but my needs are utterly and completely met. i like the way you smell. i like the way you look. when you don't have your head shoved up your ass, i really like to spend time with you. also, most of the time, you are a really good kisser.
you don't have anything i need. i realize this is hard for you to understand and deal with. you've been raised to believe that you have to provide, and i have to need.
but neither of those things is true.
i'm sorry you are bound to a world where you can tell someone how much you love them, want to disclose all your secrets, spend your extra time with them, and crave time and attention from them, but can't manage to see a world where all that actually equals a vibrant and vital relationship. it all comes down to packaging for you, and frankly that further illustrates why you don't have anything i need, why i have such a hard time being still and confident around you.
i'm not a dude-princess. i'm not your sister. i'm not a substitute mother. i'm not your young aunt, or the girl from down the block. i'm what i was always intended to be, the person God and my parents helped make me into. and you want to know why spending time with me feels so fucking great?
it's because i'm the girl you've always wished you could meet, hang out with, kiss, marry, and have babies with. there you have it. i am that girl. you won't find much better. and you've done a whole lot worse. we both know you have. it's ok to admit that, here.
and because you can't see the self-sufficient, world-wise, and seriously funny girl in the size sixteen jeans as anything other than a dude-princess, your best friend, your favorite "sister", your go-to girl Friday, the person you call to troubleshoot your bullshit, to paraphrase one of your own, you've got 99 problems, but this bitch ain't one.
see, when the power structure is challenged, like how i do, and it becomes clear to you that i don't need anything from you, that i'm choosing actively just to hang out with you, that i can take or leave it, etc. when you realize that i can take care of myself, figure out tight jams on my own, make shit happen, etc., you won't let me be an authentic female, anymore. you turn me into this valkyrie, who you're afraid of and attracted to, at the same time. but you can't deal with the fact that ultimately, i could make it without you. i don't want your soul. or your last name. i don't need your help. i can do it on my own. but i'd sure like for you to be around, and cheer, and hold my hand, and brush the hair back from my face.
it's true, i'm not like a lot of girls, or even the vast majority of them. i'm ok with that. in fact, i'm proud of it.
and sometimes, on chilly and tired mondays, i wish you were, too.
weak sauce, brah.
weak. sauce.
end of rant,
mil besos,
rmg
2 comments:
Love this post
You R.O.C.K.
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