You feel bad for pushing him away when you were busy. Just because he gave you that look, right there in his eye. It makes you feel like you owe something to him. And do you really? It's hard to tell. Do you owe him the stares you are always burning into his back, with the muscles and bones obvious in the way he sits, shirtless?
He is your inspiration. In fact, he is what is inspiring me to write this. I cannot help it. Like I said, just look at him and you'll understand. If you're still reading this you should already understand without me having to tell you to.
Oh those eyes, those eyes. They are green, a light olive, like the colour few have but yet so many do. He is trying to communicate with you through them but you are too busy, too inspired. And it is his entire fault yet he doesn't comprehend this. He thinks you can just stop when you wish, because he wishes. He wants your attention, the greedy pig. But you can't give it to him. Not yet. You're not done.
He's too impatient. Those of his kind always are though… well, mostly it seems so. Some of them lounge around on the couch, waiting patiently for you to enter the room while you fix yourself up for the presence of others. He doesn't get it. He doesn't say it but you know he's thinking it questioningly in his head. Why is she dressing up? I love her the way she is.
But others don't.
Others only like the made-up girl that actually took time to work on her appearance today. Or at least it seems so; isn't that the only time you get compliments? They are certainly never about your self-proclaimed sparkling personality.
[Note: Ignore this question if you've got natural beauty; you won't get where it's coming from. You probably never have.]
He has natural beauty. He is so handsome. You know if he had it in him, he'd say you are too.
He is a ginger, this one. There's something appealing about the mop he has. The colours, natural highlights, of remarkable hues we rarely stop and appreciate because instead we find them so rare the beauty is uncommon. But I like it. Red, orange, little wisps of black or brown hardly visible unless so close. In fact, he is so colourful he looks odd.
[Appreciate the unseen beauty.]
He will follow me around the house, wherever I go. Because you do everything together: you snuggle up on the couch, keeping each other warm, and watch a movie even if one of you doesn't have enough patience (or intelligence) to follow what's going on. He doesn't care though, because he loves you and your company. You are everything to him; it's not like he follows just anyone around. You're pretty sure everyone else is jealous and upset by this but they understand; you love each other. You're always together. It's what you do.
Sometimes he will smell and you'll wonder what he's gotten into: maybe another girl, a dirty situation, or he just plain spent too much time outside that day; some guys just like to roll around in the mud.
He is afraid of the strangest things and you find it to be cuter than one who is afraid of the usual; spiders, airplanes, or crossing the middle of the street; though of course he will probably be fearful of these things too. But you're more interested in how the popping of a balloon will make him jump, or how he can't be in the same room as a vacuum cleaner being used.
You like how parts of him can be softer than silk and much more comforting than it too. He is your teddy bear even if he finds hugs awkward and you have to force him into them. He can be vicious and intimidating though and you know this even if it's hard to believe by his actions. There is proof.
When should I end this? Sometime soon, most likely. You're getting bored of me thinking to myself. I already lost you at ginger.
They are of a dying breed, redheads. But I hope he doesn't die out. He will though. Doesn't the thought make you cry? Come on, think of your 'him'. You have one; don't make me repeat the whole 'you wouldn't be reading this if you don't know what I'm talking about' spiel. Oh, I guess I just did repeat myself. How redundant.
Do you really know what I'm talking about though? Did you realize, at all, that throughout this whole thing I was talking about my cat? (My boy cat so it's slightly less creepy.) What's also eerie is how all that can apply to an animal. Just like you can have the same bond, the same friendship that is unspoken, with a cat that you do with the guy you and I both related this to and thought it was about, at first.
