The Idea of You

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“You don’t love me. You just love the idea of me.”

Your face crumpled, disheartened. You’re not blushing like you used to be, and I know that is not the sign to fill up your ego. Maybe right now is different, because I’ve added my ‘true feelings card’ to the ‘usual compliment packages’.

That’s wrong, Sho. I was neither infatuated by you, nor does my view of love distorted by all romance-metropop books that I’ve read. I love you because you’re not that prince I encounter in my version of  fairy tales. I love you because all that you are is enough. And I am not someone who just push her feelings towards you without trying to unfold you, piece by piece.

“You just don’t want to be alone. You just text me because you’re lonely, and if I don’t respond the way you’ve pictured it in your mind, you become miserable.”

Listen, Sho. You aren’t here to fill the void inside of me. You are not ‘Mister Always Right’ to me. All that you are is enough, and I prefer that with added flaws. It’s true that you don’t understand Nietzsche and you’re not the hipster dudes that I can have deep conversations with. But I like our talks. I like the way you always take notes with your left hand — and you can say that it’s ridiculous how that’s the first thing from you that turned me on. I love that you enthusiastically mention the potentials of assurance business, although I always tease you that assurance is not for ‘some religious people who believe that God can always take care of them’. I adore the way you remembered those amount of investment and currency system, while I was designing my new street art to oppose capitalism.

You can spot my mistakes and I’m not afraid to tell yours outloud. I’m not some irrational girls who always justify your wrongdoings.

I don’t want to spend our days trying to fix your reckless past, I want to embrace you with all your pain and your anxiety, and having you move forward with my insecurities.

If I love the idea of you, I can never own you. Because you’re not an idea, you’re an astounding image that I can see crystal clear, the art that never cease to amaze me, and the real beautiful, vulnerable human being that I will not try to change.

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