It is my firm, steadfast belief, that the human race has overshot the pinnacle of evolution, and is now, surely and not-so-slowly headed back to being Neanderthals in the Stone Age. As a species, we are nothing more than a ginormous waste of oxygen.
There's nothing wrong with having your own brand of beliefs. Nothing.
I unequivocally believe my statements from the previous paragraph.
However, if I attempt to shove my beliefs down someone else's throat, that is when, well - Existence, meet Apocalypse.
Please don't expect people to make allowances for your beliefs, simply because blind adherence to some culture's edicts dictates your train of logical thought.
Get kids married by the age of 10, expect them to have kids of their own by 12.
Puberty and Parenthood were, once upon a time, not dissociated by Maturity; only by an ability to shoot out tiny little humanoids from between your legs.
Ours is a culture that used to condone female foeticide/infanticide. There are those that still do. Apparently, it was a matter of great shame to produce the XX-chromosome pair; Ironic, given that, that pair is one-half of what it took to produce you.
Ours is the culture that glorifies the dowry system, and the outrageous abhorrent ritual of calling off a wedding and/or bride-burning if said dowry is not provided.
Ours is the culture that still largely believes that the fate and the course of an individual's life is governed by celestial bodies residing millions of light years away. And this is not relegated to a religion or certain areas of the globe, this is at a cultural stratum.
Please stop breathing. Save the damn planet.
Let's face it - I have, both, the looks and the personality, of a rabid grizzly bear.
No, it's not a confidence thing - given my excessively narcissistic perception of self, confidence is not a trait that I lack, in any conceivable measure.
It's an acute awareness thing - I'm acutely aware of exactly who and what I am - outside and inside.
I think she's incredibly pretty, has this amazing smile, luminous eyes and a throaty, husky timbre in her voice that sounds, inexplicably and incomprehensibly, like chocolate.
I especially love the way she smiles at those she knows, with an intentional blink, the twinkle from her eyes suffusing a warm glow into the greeting, like there's a secret they're in on.
Hers is a smile that makes my insides ache.
Seeing her is like being caught in a storm - primordial, existential, fiery, yet calming.
I've tried not looking in her direction - not been able to.
I've tried drowning out her voice - crumbled at my first and only pathetic attempt.
I don't even know her name.
I cannot tell her this. Any of this. Simply because I cannot lose the relative comfort of the anonymity afforded by being strangers.
I know what you are thinking, at this juncture - succinctly put, "coward".
Chances are, you're right.
Granted, the smooth-talking, suave ladies' man thing has never been me, but, as far back as memory serves, I've never been good at approaching someone, that I was really attracted to, either.
I am afraid of being snubbed and/or disappointed. In that order.
I am afraid to show myself to her. To show her who I really am.
I am afraid that she will despise me and run away.
I am afraid that I'm not a worthy person yet, and so I will let her go, trusting that someday I'll get another chance, because she is worth the wait.
I was hoping I wouldn't have to see her again, or maybe, about 60% of me was.
But that significant and pesky two-fifths was, and still is, doing the hula dance, celebrating that I'm going to have to see her, for the foreseeable future, at the very least.
Mine was a simple crush; Over and done with.
And then you HAD to look at me, didn't you?
And did you have to have those enchantingly beautiful eyes?
I want to walk away, I want to leave, or I want you to leave.
No, no I don't.
"After all this time?"
"Always."
