There is something very captivating about you. Be it a subtle look, a curve, a demure movement, or even a kept secret struggling against its silent restraints. You draw people to you because you are free, uninhibited, yet at times dissident and hesitant, but never timid. You are strong and resilient; irrepressible . In any world where determined men exist, you are not only a catch but a trophy, not to be paraded around and lauded, rather intimately celebrated in all your confines. You want to tell a story, to reach out for help, but pride stifles you from doing so. You demand to be won; conquered but only by the one you deem worthy. Much like a submissive, you keep control. You are always the one in control, even working to your detriment, creating isolation.
You see deeper into me than you should, given our few, brief encounters. Your intrigue is alluring. If only I could show you how you are seen through my eyes, although behind my eyes is rarely a safe place for anyone, maladjusted brute or otherwise. I am an open book. You pride yourself on avoiding questions striking too close to truth. A conversation between us, one in which you were held to answering my questions and engaging on an honest dialogue would result in more than a little bit of arousal and carnal provocation.
Your quest for mental control is admirable. Despite being a romantic cliché, your eyes are haunted, and they prevent you from hiding away as you would like. Maybe it is just you with me, maybe it’s just me. I see it, though. I see it in all of its beautiful vulnerability. It’s your purgatory, I think, you hide despite not necessarily wanting to. It’s your dangerous intelligence. It is your obvious struggle that makes me want to know you.
I say all this, but I apologize if it feels like I am dissecting you. Such is not my intention. My own savage tendencies compel me to live in a world of brutal truth. The natural consequence is that I am disarmingly blunt, which makes most people very uncomfortable. But, life is too short, especially the way I live it, to spend time spewing lies simply to make other people feel good about themselves. That is a maddening and worthless pursuit.
I know people so that I can understand them. Anything else is a waste of time. You either stand up for who you are, as a person, held open by truth, in which you are forced to see in the brightest of lights, those controlled by harsh realities that make up brutal honesty, or you do not. If you do not, we cannot exist together; my demands on people are exceedingly high.
If you can live your life removed from the bullshit of flattering mirrors and obligatory compliments, you will find freedom unrestrained. You will find yourself damaged and uninhibited, and damaged people are dangerous because they know how to survive. But here I find myself, against a backdrop of breaking dusk, the night full of possibilities, and the night has a way of making the unthinkable possible. This is especially true for those of us who live out here, beyond the stars; unrepentant for who we are, choosing only to live as ourselves and in the comfort of others like us, free of judgment and shame, suffering no derision for the world around us. Walk into the dark with me now, or stay sheltered and confined. We are who we are, with our middle fingers raised to the world.