I Don’t Really Want You

I DON’T really want you.

Yes, you’re pretty, and sure, you may be talented, but I don’t really want you.

The thing is, I want you the way a kid wants a toy when she’s at a toy store. I want you the way a New Yorker wants a taxi cab. And I want you the way someone on Wall Street wants a promotion.

You see where I’m going with this? You don’t want me wanting you this way. Because in my eyes, you’re no different than the scarf that I wear when it’s cold outside or the like the string on our lamp that I flick on when it’s too dark to see. Basically, you’re way too convenient and accessible to me.

We were never meant to be together; you’re wild and free and I’m tamed and isolated. What we need is something that looks nothing like the two of us. Go! Run far away from here. Don’t look back. There’s nothing here for you to see.

I can’t even tell you the last time I felt something real. Was it yesterday? Was it way back when I was on the public transportation staring out of the window? Or was it that time when I saw two gay couple caressing each other’s faces on the subway? I can’t remember. Is this really the type of person that you want to be with?

You don’t need me falling in love with you because if I do you will never know what my true feelings are. I would hide my emotions from you the way a guilty child hides from her parents. I would run emotional circles around you until you tire out.

You don’t need someone like me. I’m too scared to open up. What you need is someone who is full of oxygen, someone who’s nostrils can open up wide to smell your scent from miles away. You need someone who is full of life and who’s not afraid to dance like no ones’ watching.

Are you still listening? No, no, no! you’re making a mistake—–

“Excuse me, buddy, but your wife is waiting outside. She want’s to know if you’re finished with your vows.”

Photo by Gilles Lambert on Unsplash


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