THE SUBTLETIES OF THE ARROW
I do not like talking about my love life because it is usually a tale of near-success. There is usually a psychotic undertone to the way I exude my seemingly impossible love, and for the most part, it is impossible for me to fall in love with a person I have become familiar with. Unless, of course, it is the falling in love that makes them familiar.
In any case, I want to talk about this girl. And because I do not want to mention her name because she is on my list, I would be saying the truth about her seeming love for dark guys. She hasn't told me she loves dark guys, but when you love a person you just know because you just don't listen to them. You listen to their unspoken desires.
I am in love with her, and I have told her that it is okay if she doesn't believe me because if I were a girl I wouldn't believe me. I am crazy. And perhaps a firm indicator that I am really in love with her is how I find myself drifting through sentences that seem too intelligent to be impromptu. Perhaps if I want to write a story about this, I would attach my chats with her. Perhaps it would make you understand it better. I think she likes talking to me because I seem intelligent, and for the most part I think she is keeping me in the friend zone.
Only I know where my bread is buttered, and I do not think I know how to become friends with a girl I am in love with. But I am willing to understand how it feels like to walk your way from a seemingly disadvantaged position. Talk about underemployment.
I have gone out with her a few times, and I have tried to gauge her feelings. To make them fit into perceptible numbers. There is the clear suggestion that there isn’t a number that alludes to a propensity to return my love.
I am trying to restrain myself from talking about some of the things I have told her. Our conversations. It would give the story away. In any case, I want you to think of this story as fictionalized. What is the difference?
Fiction is how I can hide a really true story. I told her she is not my target.
I told her she is my arrow, and I want her to be by my side, and help me get to my goals and targets. Perhaps I could be the arrow to her dreams as well.
I think later in the future, if we are not together, she might think of me as the guy who dreamed about the impossible. She would think of me as Mister extreme.
I have flirted with other girls, and every time it feels like I am cheating on her. It is incredible. You have to be really neck-deep to understand what I mean. I do not think I can genuinely be in a relationship with another person until I dispel the shackles of her love.
I have listened to her talk about her ex-boyfriend. And it is funny because I am learning from her experience. I know where she is at fault. I can see her honest limitations. Someday I will move on. I have actually tried to move on, and the circumstances that followed made me feel so sorry. She cried. It was the first time I had seen her succumb to tears.
Now, I think the best way to leave is not to try too hard. Leaving happens before one eventually leaves. I understand that, and as I am writing this, I actually feel better. Writing is a form of medication.
Lastly, I think there are two kinds of guys in a relationship. Now imagine the girl is a painting, and the two guys are painters. The first guy thinks the girl is beautiful because he is such a great painter. The second guy thinks the girl is beautiful because she is beautiful.
