To like a girl…
… I hate my own human feebleness regarding such passionate feeling. Gosh, I detest being a sucker for someone. It is unfairness at its purest. You can attribute any sort of divine characteristic to your desired maiden; but at the end (specially when you’re 25) you realize the cynicism behind it. This woman is just the enhanced delusion of her own virtues. Your mind fools you into it and you know it.
If there’s anyone in the crowd ready to mock me, take your first shot. I’m worthy of it. But even better, if there is anyone ready to bitch slap the hell outta me until I happily forget her, go ahead. I’ll allow masochism on my cheeks.
Is it the melting skill of her sweet voice? Man, that bitch spits candy out of her snout.
The warmth of her presence? If it is like that, I guess that I wouldn’t have to pay the electricity bill on winter.
The unfathomed mysteries of her life? ‘Cause of course, talking to her would be like scoring another season of Game Of Thrones.
Or that she’s the constant reminder that there is hope in the world? ‘Cause that 80’s song “We are the World” got too old for me. Maybe I’ll have to listen to the new hit of my future life: SHE.
Her smile means a lot to me, like the one of a shark does to its prey.
A single score of her graceful look is more effective than any narcotic in the whole wide world. That is to say, that if I ever miserably fail as an artist and I become a dealer, I think that the least I could do is to baptize a new batch of crack cocaine with her name.
Joie de vivre, she is.
I’m quite aware that my fondness for her is inevitable. Just as the annoying emails of an unfortunate Nigerian Prince in my inbox.
It wasn’t my choice that I desire to be next to her more often. If I could, I would happily put a restraining order on myself.
I’m just a slave of my own impulses. I’m a passengerless boat drifting on a violent river of emotions.
I’m doomed to the eventual fall.
It can not stop.