Not His TypeAnd the problem is that I like him. I like him far too much for my own good. The problem is that I like everything about him. Even the things that other people consider to be faults. I like him for those things. I like him because he is kind and he his sensitive. Because he never has a harsh word to say about anyone, really. Because of what he has been through. I like him because he can withstand pain. I like him because he takes the time to gently taste everything with his tongue before it enters his mouth. I like his hands, and the scars on his right arm. I like his smile. And I like the cute small chuckle he lets escape from his mouth when he has found something surprisingly funny – the one that sounds sort of dumb to everyone else. I like him for the way the skin around his eyes crinkles whenever he really smiles. I like him for all of his insecurities. I like his sarcastic sense of humor. I like his determination when it comes to working out. I like that he has a knack for learning things quickly. I like that he is one of the only people that i have ever met who makes me feel safe. I like the things that we can talk about when we’re together - our pasts our present and our futures. I like hearing about his siblings. I love the way he loves his home and the way he talks about the beauty there. I love the way that he explains things to me. I love that he is up front about his fears, but is determined to face them anyway. I like the way his hair makes me want to run my fingers through it. I like the way I want to reach out in the middle of a class and scratch his back. I like the way his chest looks in white t-shirts. I like the veins on his legs. I love seeing his eyes, his real eyes, through his gigantic adorable glasses. I love the look on his face when he is playing with someone - when his eyebrows raise a bit and his mouth turns up at the corners. I also love his face when he is concentrating on finding an answer. I guess I just love his face.
and his body -
just makes me want to rip his clothes off of him.
but he will not ever like me.. because I’m not his “type.”
so I’ll go to Egypt for a few months, to see what i can learn about life there.
And then I'll go to Tanzania.
and i will better my Chinese, my Arabic, and Swahili.
And i will do many incredibly wild unfathomable things.
And i will meet people who are so real, and with so much depth that not even the best fiction writer in the world could have dreamed these people up.
And i will build on my personality.
And i will become the woman i am meant to be -
the perfect balance -
of strength and
and I will think of him – again and again.
and he will hardly think of me.
And maybe over time, I’ll forget all of these things that I like about him.
but for right now, I die a bit each day, at the thought of being
Not good enough.
and so it goes…