something I wrote after my calc test today
There isn’t much there because the weather is mild and nobody ever writes about lukewarm passion.
It’s not that you don’t like him, because you do. Well, you think you do; there’s a lot to like about the guy. He treats you well and he holds your hand and he somehow sees something attractive about you when you’re not wearing makeup. So, no—it’s not that you don’t like him.
You know what it isn’t, but you’re not quite sure what it is. You think it could be a lot of things but you’re not sure if all those things are completely honest because you write a lot and have a tendency to romanticize everything.
You think it might be the absence of that thing they call a spark. They say its supposed to be there when you kiss but you can’t see it. Maybe it’s because your eyes are closed—they’re supposed to be closed when you kiss him, right?—or maybe it just isn’t there.
You think it might be the way your gut stays still when you see him and you never feel it flip over itself. There aren’t any butterflies, either, but the idea of bugs in your stomach kind of grosses you out.
It could be that you’re afraid to let someone control your irrationality or maybe you think he doesn’t know you’re not as great as he seems to think you are and you’re worried about what might happen if he ever finds out that you sometimes drink milk straight from the carton when nobody’s looking.
You’ve been hurt before and you know by now that the only way you can get hurt is if you care too much. So maybe the indifference isn’t such a bad thing. You don’t need a spark when you kiss because you don’t want one, anyway. Sparks kind of scare you—you’re always the one standing the farthest away from a fire because the grains of flame it spits back tend to sting when they land and you’d prefer to avoid that if possible.
So you’re happy with that lukewarm passion and it’s a sort of incomplete comfort so you don’t need to write about it because you don’t feel much and that’s okay. It’s not better than okay because there’s still something missing and danger is attractive to you no matter how much you play it safe but it’s okay because you’re okay as long as you don’t get burned.
And he’s a nice guy and you like him but you know you could like him more than you do because he’s clearly crazy about you for reasons you will never understand, and sometimes you wish you were crazy about him, too. But like they say you know that’s a beautiful risk you’d rather not take.
He is a nice guy though. He treats you well and he holds your hand and he somehow sees something beautiful about you when you’re not wearing makeup. You like him but you could like him more than you do and you’re glad that you don’t because it’s safer not to. And you know it won’t last long—at least, you think it won’t last long. You think it won’t last long because your face never turns red when you see him and your heart doesn’t smash itself against your ribcage and you felt different last time. But last time didn’t last long, either.
And yeah, you guess that’s probably a good sign, right, because last time you felt a lot more and you got hurt so maybe it’s better not to feel again. Because there are a lot of things that are different with this one than they were with the last one and there are some things you miss but there are a lot of things you don’t miss, too. And the lack of spark is different but so is the lack of disappointment and frustration and that feeling that you are not and will never be good enough and sometimes you can’t help but notice that he has very nice eyes. His smile is pretty gorgeous, too. And he puts his hand on your face when he kisses you and is that how this is supposed to work, then? It’s kind of nice.
The next time you see him, something feels different. It’s not like the first time and you don’t feel like the floor is crumbling beneath your feet but you decide that solid ground is better, anyway.