Why Do I Love this Guy?

Why am I in love with this guy? I just want to take care of him, cuddle with him, and just plain adore him. He is the ying to my yang. We are so different in our thoughts, that just the thought of anyone like him, in the past, made me cringe. Yet, I feel helpless, when I am being pulled by his magnet's unseen force. I cannot break away. I have tried, to no avail. My helplessness is like a net, he holds around my heart and soul. He is aware of this. He plays with my feelings all the time. Once he asked me to do something, then, later realized he had asked me on April Fool's Day, on purpose, just to tease me. Cruel? Is he the player others perceive him to be? At times, I glimpse a meanness in him, then I feel guilty that perhaps my love for him makes me see what is not there. He likes me to pamper him, play up to his ego, praise him to the skies, while he puts me down. He is the only man, besides Eduardo del Valle, when I was a little girl, who has made me question my beauty. He laughs at my clumsy attempts of showing my love for him. I become a shy, awkward woman, so unsure of myself, that I act like a bumbling fool. Why do I torture myself like this. I cannot stop thinking of his solemn face, or his clothing, which is too large on him, or his eyes, which appear to be sincere, but I have caught him in so many lies.

Where is my genius IQ when I need it the most. Why does my brain become so humble, following my heart's orders, like a sheep. Is my brain also his slave? My heart already submits to him.

Does love make me insane? Why would I love someone who is mean, selfish, inconsiderate, detached, and likes to pretend there is no such person as one? Did I do something to deserve this? I want to get off this merry go round. I want to find my real soulmate. Someone who is sweet, loving, romantic, and real. I do not want this guy in my life, unless he realizes I am the best for him.

He introduced himself into my life without my permission. I would have not let him have any entry. He has become a sharp pebble, piercing my heart. But no, I was blinded by his faked niceness. I was fooled by his pretense of loving those who died. Unbeknownst to him, I was the perfect woman for his life. A woman who would always be there for him, who would help him reach out for the stars, and the cosmos, who would ask the winds to do his bidding, and lay out the phrases for his accomplishments, and love him like he has never been loved before. He is such a dummy. He keeps on, and on, about all these empty hearted women, who seem to have come out from the same mold. They are all loud, domineering, selfish, treat him like a dog, step on him like a doormat. He smells their butts, treats them like royalty, and complains when they dump him. It is not personal, he says. All his ex-girlfriends are now his friends. This is so pathetic. I see his weakness so clearly. His weakness is destroying my inner self.
Why do I love this guy?

Birds, Kickball and Childhood

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A little bird perched on my window ledge this morning. He chirped away happily while strutting back and forth. He woke me up, probably unaware of doing so. His happiness was evident in his song. I pulled off my sheets as I observed him. "Cheerful fellow!" I thought to myself, "He is probably happy that it's such a sunny, beautiful day."I knew he was a male from his coloring. I was quite content sitting up in bed, not wanting to interrupt his solo. When I was around ten years old, I used to throw grains and bits of bread to the birds, mostly doves, that lived in the area. I would forgo eating my slice of bread at dinner, sometimes, just to feed them. My Mom always approved, being and admirer of God's creatures herself, and my Dad would not comment. My brother and sister, thought I was an idiot for giving up delicious the delicious bread from the bakery. They would devour their piece within seconds. They always critisized me for my actions. I continued feeding the birds, regardless. I was a feminine tomboy. I played with my Tammy, Barbie, and other dolls, with my sister and I played kickball with the boys right after coming home from ballet class. The exhilaration I felt when kicking that ball, way beyond, and scoring was probably the best definition for Maslow's peak experience. I also beat them at baseball cards most of the time. Some of the boys resented a girl kicking harder than they could. But most accepted me wholeheartedly, after all, my Mom was an awesome cook, and it was a daily occurrence at our home to find up to twelve kids eating her delicious cookies or her other confections. She somehow managed to find enough for all of them. We had rabbits,too many to name here, and they kept on adding to their family. They knew only to eat the carrots or lettuce that we fed them, go to their personal bathroom in our backyard and keep on reproducing. sometimes I thought I would detect a glance of familiarity from them, but other times, they would just be there, their pinkish noses constantly moving. These critters never heard of tv, I guess. We also owned two dogs, Butch, a homeless stray my Mom allowed us to keep, and Dinah, an abused dog I fed scraps and leftovers to, until one day she followed me home. I found out later that my Mom convinced her nasty owner to let me keep her, a white cat with one blue, one green eye, "Missuh", and one hamster, "Chupi", that I won in a school raffle from Mr. Brown, my science teacher, and two parakeets, "Fortuna" and "Dinero" I had formed the opinion the birds feeding was my responsibility.
I fed the birds on a daily basis. They recognized me. They would swoop down unafraid as if paying a social call. There was one time that two of them were building a nest and it all fell down on the grass. I was pretty good at tree climbing, so it was no big deal to pick it up and place it back where they had it, more firmly, of course. Some months passed, and my 4th grade teacher wanted me to skip 5th grade, because of my perfect grades. She thought it would be a waste of my time. This was kind of stressful on me. My parents and her would have several conferences, not once asking what did I want. School would be over in a month or so, and I was expected to jump into the end of 5th grade and start 6th in the following year. I was feeding the birds several days before this occurred. It was sweet how they would start their flying down at seeing me. There was one, however, that was trying to get my attention. She persistently kept her flying in circles around me. It was so non-stop that she achieved my full focus. I noticed the baby birds with her, then. They had arrived for their feeding and their proud mother wanted to thank me for saving her nest appropiately. I reciprocated by bringing them some seeds, so they could eat to their heart's content.


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