It Is Horribly Inconvenient (To Like You)


It is

horribly inconvenient to

like you,

I hope you know. In fact, if I

did not

like you so much, I would hate you.

You are

cocky, talented, beautiful,

and proud.

What am I to you? Just a girl,

unknown.

A couple of words unspoken, a

laugh or

two, a few minutes spent alone —

so what?

Yes, horribly inconvenient.

I tell

myself to forget your eyes, your

smile, your

voice, that wink, that look, your teasing,

and your

flirting. How can that mean any-

thing? I

will forget about your passion,

your soul,

your kindness, your quiet thoughts. It’s

better

if I do not think of you as

real, just

package you up, recycle you, and forget

you. So I tell myself, but it’s

all bull.

It’s horribly inconvenient

to like

you.

[Almaty, Kazakhstan, June 2009]

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