Why You Shouldn’t Fall In Love With Me

Don’t fall in love with me because I’m tall. I’m a six feet giant in the middle of a crowd and my head sways from side to side above the black sea of strangers. You will never experience sweet surprises and unexpected back hugs because it’s hard to hide me in a crowd; I can be seen even if you use Google maps. There’s a great distance from my lips to yours and you can’t rest your head on my shoulders when we hug. You can’t bury your face on my neck when you cry and I know it’s a nuisance for you to tiptoe when we hug or kiss just so we could feel like our anatomies fit perfectly. Don’t fall in love with me because there are great distances between us.

Don’t fall in love with me because I write. I’m a delusional boy trapped inside my head most of the time. I will not pay attention to you as you tell me about your holiday because my mind will wander off to who knows where, constructing a world from words handpicked in midair. I will daydream all the time that you will begin to question my sanity. I will waste my time in front of my computer, constantly pressing the backspace button instead of going to the movies with you. You won’t be able to hold my hand because I’ll let go to fetch my pen and paper when an idea pops in my head. I will use my words as a weapon to lure you and then cut you open. Don’t fall in love with me because I will write about you and you will find yourself immortalized in the sheet of paper in front of me and I will make you into a metaphor until you will feel me in everything that you do; you will feel my skin as the droplets of water touch you in the shower, taste my lips as you sip your morning coffee, smell my scent when he gives you flowers, see my eyes as you stare at the setting sun, hear my voice in your favorite soundtrack.

Don’t fall in love with me because I’m a monster. I’m not the Prince Charming who’ll wake you up with true love’s kiss. I’m an anchor and I will bring you down with me. My head is a dementor and it feeds me with thoughts; screaming thoughts that keep me awake at night and thoughts that claw their way into my skin. There will be nights when I will be wrapped with alcohol stains and cigarette breath. I am unpredictable and unbearable and you will hate me because I will confuse your “I love you” with “What is wrong with you”, your “I miss you” with “I don’t want to see you” and your care and affection for annoyance and animosity.  My body is a battlefield between my heart and my head and I’m a weapon of destruction; I explode at any given moment. Don’t fall in love with me because I annihilate every beautiful thing that’s in my life.

Don’t fall in love with me because I will fall in love with you. I will become an addict, a mad man addicted to every possible inch of you; every curve, every crevice, every nook and cranny, every cell that consists of you. I’ll tell you I love you and it will mean that I love you; no exceptions, no excuses. It includes all of you; the bad and the good, the scar on your lower jaw, the pimple on your nose, your morning breath, messy hair, awkward strut, smelly feet and sweaty hands. It will include all your imperfections, especially your imperfections. I will meld my world into yours and you will become a star where I will revolve. I will take each and every clichéd movie moments and make it happen; I will make your fiction into reality. People will point and stare at us because they have never seen such a spectacular display of constellations that our dusts will make and we will let them. Don’t fall in love with me because forever doesn’t exist and I intend to love you beyond the extent of forever.

Of Papers and Pen

The pavement is a page and every step I take is a turn to the next. The people are stories aching to be read; the faces that pass by me are drifting words lost in their own thoughts. The world is a book. The people, stories. And I, a pen.

The mind of a writer is a terrible place to dwell in. It is dark and cold, left in the deepest part of the body to isolate itself from the messy world that tries to disturb it. It seeks for the light from which ideas are conceived and poured out to the world through the hands that have witnessed a lot of stories unfold. It is a living monster that feeds on tragedy and heart aches; of stories that trigger the pain of being human and the pain of humanity. It is the demon that keeps us awake at 2 am and the saving grace that makes the world more vibrant.

The mind of a writer is a metaphor machine. We will make your existence into a metaphor; turn you into something that transcends angels. We will make your hair not only black but a flowing abyss that cascades atop of the highest level of the angelic hierarchy; we will make your eyes not only brown but an autumn day’s tree leaves hit by the twilight rays of the sun. We will carve an exact sculpture of you, highlighting the beauty that you fail to see, with words that we have constructed just for you. We will turn your world into a metaphor until you won’t be able to enjoy your coffee break without tasting our bitter tongues.

The mind of a writer is a bomb and the world is the countdown to destruction. One moment we’re walking at the side of the street, the next, we are digging our bags for pen and notebook. Because that’s the thing, we are constantly ticking and the world is designed to make us blow up. It is composed of the perfect ingredients that make the machinery in our heads click and clank. We see the world differently from you; when we look at a city, we do not see people, lights and cars and skyscrapers but we see words and stories. Because the world itself is made up of tiny stories and we merely extract those stories and amplify them. We make you see the world as an inked paper, hidden behind the mundane things. We unveil to you the realm of stories.

A writer is not someone who writes, but we are those who merely fish out stories already written in the world. We are those who see the words that flow around us; we are those who understand that the world is not made up of atoms but of words that are waiting to be noticed, flowed through a pen and placed in paper.

 

Date A Guy Who Writes

Date a guy whose hair may never be as perfect looking as Zayn Malik’s quiff because he doesn’t have time to do all the pampering. He’ll have problems with his looks but doesn’t have time to better himself because there are billions of words and endless stream of ideas in his head that he cannot wait to write down. His laptop will probably be low in disk space because of the unfinished works he started and the others that he left on tabs, unsaved and unedited. You’ll usually see his playlist with gazillion songs being shuffled and repeated and multiple YouTube tabs opened some paused mid-chorus while others left unplayed. He’ll be sorry for all the paper clutter filled with rejected ideas lying on the floor and the black ink stain on his carpet, a result of frustrated nights and broken G-Tech pens.

Let him kiss you underneath the rain. Listen to him as he tells you what he thinks about “love”.

Find a guy who writes. You’ll learn a lot from him, facts from the deepest part of the Amazon, adventures of Captain Nemo and his Nautilus. He’ll try to make you laugh with the humor of the books he has read and he’ll be gentle and caring to you because he doesn’t want you to feel how the girls in tragic stories like The Fault In Our Stars or Romeo and Juliet felt. As you listen to him talk, you’ll be amazed as to how far he has brought you; from the plains of Narnia to the beaches of Miami. He’ll make you feel like you’ve spent the night in Paris or early mornings in Bali with the words that he has written and said. He’s the guy who frequently smells of Starbucks coffee, with dark shadows under his eyes because of lack of sleep. See that guy sitting alone at the corner of your favorite coffee shop who is busy typing on his laptop, his mocha latte left untouched? That’s the writer. He will talk for hours about his ideal adventure, of daring heroes and notorious villains, of wizards and ogres. He’ll talk endlessly about the infinite battle of light and dark. Of Love and Pain. He can’t resist filling a blank page with black ink. He can’t resist filling a blank mind with his colorful words and ideas.

He’s the guy whose face is buried in the pages of his favorite book, rereading his favorite lines again and again. You might feel like he’s ignoring you with the endless silence that consists the tiny gap between you two but be patient with him, he’ll surprise you with words you never knew sounded so good. If you check his coffee, you’ll only feel the cold china underneath your palm. He’ll peek at you and smile; loving the fact that you took notice of his deep reading.

Read the book he’s reading, or at least get background knowledge about it and surprise him with a line or two.

If he puts the book down, ask him if he wants a fresh, hot cup of cocoa latte. He’ll repay you with unwritten ideas and words in his head. If he stops typing, smile at him and tell him about the books you’ve read; tell him what you think about The Great Gatsby or how you cried when Snape died. Tell him how you felt after reading The Five People You Meet In Heaven and your thoughts on To Kill A Mockingbird. Tell him your favorite books, characters, your fantasies and ask him about the book he is currently reading.

It’s hard to date a guy who writes. But be patient with him.  Buy him books for his birthday and  hand written letters for your anniversaries. Surprise him on Christmas day with a story you wrote just for him. Let him know that his fiction will not stay fictitious for long and that his reality will become a lot better with you.

He’ll give you a kiss.

He is a master of words, don’t lie to him. He can instantly detect if you lie to him. Tell him directly; tell him the truth, for a boy who writes will understand. He will nod and smile at you and tell you that you two can work things out. He will understand because he knows that life is not like the fairy tales he has grown tired of reading. He knows that books were inspired by people’s lives. He knows that no fairy tale ends without a little poisoned apple somewhere in the plot. Though his head is mostly floating in the clouds, he is realistic. He isn’t impatient. He accepts your flaws because he knows that these make you who you are, just like the little typos in every book. He’ll understand that endings are meant to happen, whether happily or devastatingly.

Be his love, his life, his everything.

If you find a guy who writes, hold him close. If you visit him and find out he hasn’t slept yet because of this new idea, brew him a hot cup of coffee. Insist if he refuses. Then sit beside him as he types furiously on the keyboard. Notice as his brow furrows and as he harshly presses the backspace button, notice the dark shadows underneath his eyes. Marvel as he stares blankly on the computer screen, frustrated by writer’s block and cheer him with a smile as he overcomes it. Be happy for you have just witnessed him at the time when he is most vulnerable.

You are the light to his yelda. You are what he longs for. He longs to embrace you just as one embraces the sunlight after many rainstorms or hours of darkness. You will be the one to save him. Hold him close as he cries over the character he decided to kill and help him plan out the death of the villain.

You will be all smiles as he talks to you nonstop; appreciate that, it means he has no secrets and can trust you with his “top secret” ideas and upcoming stories. He’ll fill your stomach with butterflies as he cuddles with you on the chair in front of the computer, kissing the back of your ear and neck as he continues his story and he will write a magnificent book about your lives together. He’s rare, remember that.

A guy who writes will tell your children brilliant bedtime stories.

Because that is the best part about a guy who writes.  He is imaginative. Inside his head is a labyrinth of art galleries. He has spirit and substance. He’ll whisk you away to a place made only for you two. He will be your shooting star and the penny you threw at the Trevi Fountain. He’ll be your two AM guardian and your knight in shining armor. He will make himself a world for you in his messy hair, ink stained arms, in the crease on his temple, the curves of his half smile, in the deepness of his eyes, the words coming out of his mouth like musical notes in perfect fifth drowning you in sweet lullabies-such feeling that will leave you clinging on for a breath of life by a boy who writes.

Maybe there’s a lot of error in his stories but it’s ok.

Date a guy who writes because you deserve him. He’s funny, sympathetic, he’s poignant at times and maybe quaint but he’s impeccable, seamless and gorgeous. He sees the world through a kaleidoscope. He may be living in a house with a library or simply with an unkept bookshelf or two in his room or basement. Date a guy who writes because a guy who writes reads.

A guy who writes understands reality. He may get into your nerves at times and maybe you’d hate him. Sometimes he’ll get annoyed with you too. But a guy who writes understands human beings and their need for security and their vulnerability. He will not go away with the Midnight Circus when a rift appears in your lives. He will understand that real life is far from the books he’s read, because though he spends his time making up stories, he still accepts the fact that he is a real boy living in a real world.

Date a guy who writes.

Because there is nothing better than a guy who writes.