in the name of cynicism.

Dear You,

I remember perfectly how we spat in our palms, shook each other’s hands, and declared us friends. You went from a “nyeh” to a “whoa” to an “ugh” before you vanished into thin air, figuratively (I wish literally, but hey, we don’t always get what we want, ey?). I let you go, I called you names, and then I found you at my doorsteps again.

Every single minute that we were apart, you grew wiser. How do I close this door on you? You are now, everything, and i really mean EVERYTHING I want in a guy. You don’t lack drive like him (no.1), your back is not warm from your own patting like him (no.2), but most importantly, your mouth don’t sail like his (him no.3). Why did you return with your body, mind and soul in tuxedos? 

Oh wait a minute..

You didn’t “return”. In fact, you weren’t even at my doorsteps. You just happened to walk by as I was opening the doors to my heart. 

I was fine with the knowledge that there is no such thing as the perfect guy. Why did you have to ruin it? I was healthily living in ignorance. 

And now, your presence stupefy me. My words are clumsy. I punctuate my sentences with clumsy. clumsy clumsy clumsy. It’s not even Fergie’s version of clumsy - sexy clumsy. Or Park Gae In’s version of clumsy - cute clumsy. My clumsy is the kind of clumsy faces go blank for - eraser clumsy.

My mind keeps lingering back to the time we were at the bus stop..how we were both clumsy in our words, gazes and gestures.. I guess I’m just not your “it”, ey?

I know you don’t read this, but I just wanted to write it anyway. Just in case..

Love,

Your Clumsy Girl.