The Mistake Came (In the Form of a Question)

The Mistake Came (In the Form of a Question)

It feels like it should be
Called infatuation.
But my mind tells me,
No, dear, it’s love.
And I don’t know what to think
Because the internet says
One completely reasonable thing
But then my brain whacks around
Inside my head
And mutters something along the lines of
You’re in love, idiot,
Deal with it.
And its disturbing
Because I can’t tell the difference.
They say you find them perfect
If its infatuation
But if its love
You know they’re not
And it’s okay.

But,
They’re kind of the same.
Because he’s a fucking idiot,
And thats a flaw.
But he’s also smart,
And that’s not perfect,
But its pretty good.
He’s also kind of an asshole,
But I can live with it,
Because, obviously I’m also
A bit of a dick.
It goes hand in hand, really.

But his imperfections,
And this is where it gets confusing,
They’re kind of perfect.
They fit him.
His personality is so far out there,
I’m also almost convinced that he
Comes from planet Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Because that’s what my mind screams
Every time he comes near me.
AHHHHHHHHHHH
Which, by my completely,
One hundred percent sane logic,
That can’t be human.
Or natural.
The fact that he wipes my mind.
And I’m left standing there thinking;
Say something you stupid brain,
Because if its love,
You fucking idiot,
You’d be able to speak to him.

But no, my brain,
Much like the internet,
Doesn't really know what it is.
Convinced beyond change,
That yeah, I’m totally in love
With this ridiculous man.

But if I were -
Wouldn't I say he’s imperfect?
But that it’s okay.
It’s okay that he’s strange.
It’s okay that he’s an asshole.
It’s fine, that half the time,
He makes me furious.
And that when he looks at me
He.
Erases.
My.
Mind.

And that has to be infatuation,
Right?
It can’t be love.
Despite seeing those flaws,
Despite loving every one of them.
How is it love?
When he’s an alien,
And I’m from the ocean.
We’re so different,
We’re on completely separate planes.
It’s like if you
Took Barbie and Ken
And mashed them together -
Nothing would happen;
Despite the similarities.
Its kind of what happens with us.
Because whoa, wow there he is,
And he’s -
Oh my god he’s looking at me -

But
Now what?

That can’t be love.
That uncomfortable awkwardness.
The painful heart drop.
The urge to go anywhere he isn’t -
Begging with fate, or karma
Or whatever controlling forces there are
That he
Wont
Be there.
And then fucking cursing those assholes out
When, yep, there he is.
Because god damnit
What did I do to deserve this shit?
What did I do to deserve him?

That’s the question, though,
Isn't it?

Because it doesn’t really matter -
If its infatuation
Or if it’s love -
Yes, brain, I know what you think,
Shut the fuck up -
It doesn’t really change the facts.
He’s here. In my life.
And these feelings I have,
Much like my distaste for
Omniscient forces that have controlling factors
In my life,
He’s not going away.

So why do I
Keep debating this?
It feels like it should be infatuation,
Even with my brain screaming from the sidelines,
YOU FOR SURE LOVE HIM,
It feels like it should be called
Infatuation.
But then there he is,
And it doesn’t have a name,
Except his.
Or, if it’s a particularly snippy day,
Asshole works, too.

Or maybe,
And this is a strong maybe,
Because this is not me admitting this;
Maybe
I don’t want to give it a name.
Because
I might be afraid
That it might be something else entirely.
Something more along the lines of
Heartbreak.

But hey, what do I know?
Im the girl who talks to herself
And curses the skies,
And begs invisible beings to make
A guy disappear.
Fuck,
When did my life get so
Fucking complicated?

Oh, right.
When I started asking
This stupid fucking question.