Years ago, I wanted to be a complicated woman. It wasn’t that I wanted to complicate others with my idiosyncrasies; I just wanted my open book to be in a different language. Then knowing me would be an accomplishment instead of an afterthought.
Laziness or honesty won out. Now when I am disappointed that I have no secret weapon, no smouldering look or poison kiss, I console myself with my own economy of movement. There is what I want: I aim myself at it. Who cares if everyone knows? Leave the mystery to the mysterious; they are willing to take the long way home.
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I will be thinking about this for days and perhaps weeks to come and let it unravel itself like a ball of string or reveal the profundity of the words and thoughts like the tight bud of a lotus loosening its petals and giving its scent to the world
I do not know you well, but the words “smoky” and “mysterious” would have been among the first to pop to mind if I were to try to describe you. Still, if simplicity is your modus operandi of the moment don’t sell it short, since simple things under closer examination usually reveal layers of confidence and self-awareness.
agreed. i am very, very thankful for my delightfully uncomplicated woman. maybe i lack drive, but i’d rather be transparent.