good one direction photo

but…can we just talk…for a few seconds…about how this newborn giraffe somehow wrangled his mile-long limbs to perch so gracefully atop a what appears to be a very rickety stool?

Can we have…like…a wee chitchat….about how he’s a giant boy-man pretzeled so precariously but looks so calm and put together like this is how people were made to sit upon stools?

Can we talk…for just a sec…about how MASSIVE his feet look in those boots and also how MASSIVE and veiny and strong his hands look?

AND CAN WE TALK….ABOUT HOW YOU CAN SEE HIS NAIL POLISH???

AND DO YOU HAVE A FEW MINUTES MORE TO TALK ABOUT HOW THE JACKET DRAPES BEHIND THE STOOL AND HOW HE’S LEANING SLIGHTLY TO HIS LEFT?????

*BREATHES HEAVILY*

9

There was something puzzling yet enchanting about admiring him from afar. He made people feel like they knew him, but still kept parts of him to himself. Sometimes, if you got lucky, he would strip himself of his being and parade himself completely to those he cared about the most, almost as if he was reserving those little parts of himself to thank them for being in his life. And of course, they all accepted it because he was a gem and knowing even the smallest detail about his day was something to treasure deeply.

Every single day for the past four years, I observed him closely and watched his every move the best that I could. I had been led to believe that he was perfect, but I also knew that was impossible, so I kept my eyes open to his flaws and neither held them against him nor did I brush them off. But mistakes were rather seldom when it came to him because he carried himself well, and although my heart ached at the thought of him, I also wished he would somehow mess up just to prove to me he was just as human as I was and everyone else.

There was something dangerous in falling in love with someone you know vaguely. No matter how much I wanted to love him completely for who he was, because I only saw parts of him, that was what I fell in love with. I didn’t want to admit it, but there was a tugging bit at the back of my head that sometimes told me I fell in love with the idea of him instead of him as a person. It was absurd to think about, because I was rightfully convinced that I knew him and I could read and understand him better than he could do so himself, but that was what my thoughts fed me.

I knew my intentions were genuine because I never demanded anything from him in return. All I wanted was to absorb every fiber of his being, may it be that he let me or not, and that he continue to be himself.

So now, four years later, I am still here hurting at the thought of him. It was ridiculous, wasn’t it, how someone who is your main source of happiness can have so much control over you that they can also make you feel sadness and pain with their mere existence.

But then it always goes back to one thought, and then everything would be okay again. I was just glad to know that someone like him existed in this world that never really deserved his presence in the first place.