I never care for anything for long. Deeply, intently and fully for a few brief moments, days or weeks but never long. I have no longevity when it comes to passion. In this I am a failed romantic.
A nihilistic, manic-depressive romantic living in trashy opulence. Crass and class crash. Every breath’s a contradiction that makes too much sense.
So I imagine my not so small little-boy crush on you has become exceedingly apparent over the last week. I rarely crush and never this hard and even though retrospect is often blurred and bigoted in regards to people who have hurt us, I say that with confidence. I literally asked whoever was next to me what your name was every time you came in the back my first two or three weeks and never heard the answer because I was so stricken by the sight of you. I wish I could say that I have no interest in rocking you and your boyfriend’s boat but that isn’t exactly true. I want whatever you want. If you’re happy and content with him I would certainly be glad with you, and contentment would come in time.
I do however have principal interest in getting to know you. You move me in some indefinable way and it’s been quite some time since that last happened. I’m a loner and owner of well concealed misanthropic tendencies and generally have little enthusiasm regarding most people. I’m laying it out there, which is a strange move for me. I’m generally so passive in my dealings with women but you are without a doubt different. I don’t really know exactly how to end this or what else to say. There’s much I’m leaving out but I’ve rambled on long enough.
Michelle’s looking good with her nerdy/awkward white girl bangs
— Jay Electronica
I like working in kitchens because whenever you’re leaving a place and are done calling your superior “chef” you can say some really nasty scathing schtuff in response to their snide comments and just call ‘em Bub.
…and the nose returns to the grindstone.