I know what you want from me. You want me to listen, to nod intently, to laugh at your jokes. To be enamoured with your favourite film. You want me to be chill, to not mind, to be fine. To hold all of my intensity back until you’re ready to see it. To wear make up that looks like I’m wearing no makeup, to wear a white Tshirt so elegantly that you can’t see the curve of the bra cup or the back roll you get when the circumference is just a little too tight. You want me to not bring up past heartbreak. to not get into heavy topics. You want me to be able to break eye contact. To not get sloppy drunk and message when I’m out and surrounded by other people and only want your attention. I know what you want from me, because for a long time it’s what I wanted to. That’s the problem with wanting - so often you never get it, and if you do, it’s only a matter of time before you want something else entirely.
