The staccato of my laughter has been called by many a name, including but not limited to a frog’s croak and the sound made by humans when they sit on a pin cushion.
My father thinks that my laugh isn’t very becoming, but I have never cared about that. I have a sort of abnormal love for laughing. So I will laugh uninhibitedly, like there is no one in this world but me. And you. And if you can love me, I’d want you to choose to love my laughter.
If you love me for the little things you will be able to retain who I am without the noise of the world. The things that are dear to me and the way that I let my soul sing and create.
So love me for the little things.
For the three showers I will take even if I stay at home all day. For the right side I will choose of anything that has two sides. For each ridiculous superstition that I want to believe in, just because.
For every song by The Backstreet Boys, that I will sing at any time of any day because boy bands were not a phase of life. They are a way of life that I will hold on to as my birthright for being a 90s kid.
For the way I will move with wild abandon, magnetizing towards a swing if I ever see one. For the tunes that I hum at 5 pm as I wait for the water in the kettle to boil.
We can sit on the pavement or amble along the side of the road with mugs of our respective choice of caffeine, and I will ask you a million questions. I may also sneak in a question to figure out what you think of me.
When I do, it is important for you to know the greater things about me.
You must know about my earnest belief that I was created to always love a little beyond reason.
My burning desire to do right by those I love. My unwavering faith in my dreams, and in yours.
You may find me a little odd with the metaphors and the riddles, welcome to your tryst with my unabashed honesty and nauseating urge to stay authentic, to people, to intentions, and to my craft.
I will always unapologetically be myself, and allow for the meaning of that to change when it does. I apologize though, in advance, for my lack of discretion while I introduce hues of darkness to our conversation. I find beauty and poetry in dungeons, wrapping my light and my darkness in one massive embrace.
If you can love me for the greater things, you will love me for everything that I believe in, and will always work towards becoming. You’ll find the things that have moved me and shaped me and made me into the person I am.
Your love will be set against the corner stone of my foundation, and that’s a good foundation to base your love upon.
It doesn’t sound too difficult, ca n’est pas?
But chances are that before I allow you a glimpse into the little things and the greater things, you will first encounter my human. My container, a version that I believe has coated every being there ever was. A distasteful outer layer that we can fall prey to from time to time.
I’ll get uncomfortable before you know what you did wrong, but it isn’t you, it’s my jealousy. Sometimes I get very jealous of people who make me insecure in my beauty and in my accomplishments. You see, I am average in so many ways.
I am possessive about people and things that I call my own, I don’t like to share. I get upset in a melancholic fashion about foibles in people I love. Although I wish to accept people as they are, I am uncertain how to feel when faced with ideals and ways of life that are far removed from my own. Sometimes, I become passive aggressive and ignore the kindest way to say things because I don’t want to be kind.
I get obsessive. I get angry. I get annoyed. I snap.
If you pry open the space between the greater things and the little things, you will unearth my mediocre human.
So don’t love me for the in betweens.
But I’d like for you to start there. I will only allow for you to start there. Make your way up to the way that I can love with all-consuming acceptance. And make your way down to the way I will laugh like there is no one but me. And you. As we sit by the pavement or amble along the side of the road, you can choose to love me.