I gave him another glance. Once again, he was busy with his phone. His constant switching of attention annoyed me. Though I already knew why I felt irritated, I was having a hard time admitting it. That I'm very much attracted to him. I don't even understand it myself.
The first time I met him, it was on a Sunday. He looked untidy and unruly. His eyes portray snobbishness. He exudes this aura of unexplainable childish charisma. I continued to observe him, reading his individuality. I could tell that he has an intricate personality, like a mysterious puzzle of logic and pain. He smiled and laughed a lot, but I know that for each of it, he was really hurting inside, tenfold. To me, he's like a sea urchin. Despite the frightening and dangerous exterior, inside him contains something sweet and desirable. You just have to acquire the knowledge and the patience to open him up.
For another night, we met again, together with some friends. He was sitting silently across me, just waiting for his turn for another shot of liquor. As the others continue their chatter about someone they unanimously dislike, I stared at him, trying not to be too obvious. I focused on memorizing his face. His rugged features were like an inspiring vista in my eyes. The masculinity etched in its every corner drew me in deeper and deeper with each passing second. I wanted to grab him and feel his body against mine. I had thought of holding him close to me. I desired for his constant attention, like how I was giving him mine.
Nothing inappropriate happened that night. To be honest, I was somehow disappointed with that, albeit relieved. My God, what's wrong with me? Unfortunately, the feelings linger on the next day, as well as the following days after that. And they are never subtle, for they are surely making their existence known as obviously as they can. I welcomed 2014 in sadness and confusion because of them. I can't have that. I have to kill these hazardous bastards as soon as possible.
There are two things I am not very much fond of: complications and drama.
Complications equate to potential heartbreaks. They are something I don't like finding myself into. I like things smooth. I want them broken down in their simplest forms. Like in mathematics. Easy and breezy.
I try to avoid drama as much as I can. It is always awkward and uncomfortable. I never learned to embrace it as part of being human. I'm allergic to it.
He is a complexity and he makes me dramatic. I don't want to break him down into simplicity; it isn't necessary, really. So what else to do but avoid him, right? And that's what I'll do.
I believe that this too shall pass. I am just hoping that it would go by quickly. Similar to a speeding car on a windy highway. Or a tiny wave in a limitless ocean.