My Type Is You.

       Some people, maybe everyone actually, has a type. That type of person for which they always tend to fall for, it might be blonde guys, maybe all jerks, anything really. Everyone has stuff they like that can apply for anyone they meet really. For example, I like ninny hands and sharp jawlines and freckles and curly hair and big red lips and there is you.

You are a taurus, you have small little freckles right on your nose, your hair is just as curly messy as my head, your eyes have those little bits of green just like heath ledger’s in 10 Thing I Hate About You, but still I cannot find one single thing that’s not to like about someone as nice and talkative as you. You ask my parents for advice, you care for me when I get home drunk, you are still sad she doesn’t want you back although you claim to be over it. And I am so not over it for over a year.

First we were friends because you needed someone, then I fell for the first time after I decided it wouldn’t work two years ago. I fell and I had no idea what to do, I told only one person and you are so great that she fell too. And she got you, even though you wanted me but had no idea I wanted you so bad. You broke up a month ago, we went out last night, you spent three hours telling me, your closest friend at the moment, how you were disappointed that she is dating your friend, I understand that so fucking well that I wish i didn’t.

Do you know that you are the reason I am not doing so great in physics? Only because the moment you get home and send me messages like “hey, how was your day?” is the moment of my class, but I’d rather spend that time discussing at which age people stop being babies and start being children with you.

People have a type, maybe my type is cute guys with curly hair, veiny hands and big red lips, maybe my type is you, maybe my type is hurting, struggling and falling for the same guy over and over again although he has made it a point that I am the one he talks shit with.