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It is now that I understand and have underestimated the angst towards complacency. Complacency is being finished, uninterested, the lack of fear. The lack of fear. The lack of “Please stay”. The lack of “I’m scared of losing you”. It is something I yearned for but now cower away from. It is not satisfaction. It is not enlightenment. To be complacent is to kiss me on the forehead and bid me goodbye. I do not find solitude in forehead kisses. My solitude resides in fast beating hearts, dilated pupils, and sweaty palms. Complacent is “I have not the energy to fight for you.
The problem with relationships is that they’re lust based.We fall for the layers of skin that are soon to weather away then wonder what went wrong.
We need to be taught how to fall for the little quirks and misfits. The way his shirts are often too tight or too loose, the way his brows can’t seem to fall in order, the slight crookedness of his nose from when he was young and restless or the way he hums those ridiculous tunes when he thinks no one’s listening.
Fall for the way his eyes glow with that prickle of contained excitement when he thinks of (what he considers) an ingenious idea and the way he zones out mid conversation because he got distracted by the window view. And most importantly, fall for the way he battles his demons and be there to help him undo the damage they’ve done.
Fall for his quirks and misfits for these are the ones stamped in his soul. And fall for his soul for that is the one thing that won’t weather away.