dear men who might at some point in the future
dear men who might at some point in the future be genuinely interested in me, please find enclosed a list of my long-fought but still too easily identifiable weaknesses: when confronted with stage fright, i am incapable of speaking in grammatically correct sentences; i blow my nose in a very un-ladylike elephant dame manner; i've inherited a sort of innate tendency to melancholy that sometimes spend the whole day rendering me incapable of movement, additionally stifling every attempt i pursue at smiling; it is a frequent occurrence that i laugh too much, drawing the attention of people around me on to the very low voice i have which technically has always made me a tenor; i have been told that i snore when my nose resembles rudolph the reindeer's at winter-time; sometimes i shower for more than the socially acceptable twenty minutes, just to be sure that my skin doesn't forget the feeling of rain until the next day; my whole life, i've been incapable of eating any kind of food with chopsticks elegantly; i am usually awake when i should be sleeping soundly, surrounded by all the thoughts i haven't had the time to dwell upon during the day; evening-time loneliness is a close friend of mine, and it cannot be defeated by anyone, only ever shoved away for a while; permanently, i try not to be shy, but make the impression of being an entirely different person whenever i fail; i am allergic to unhappy endings that coincidentally also happen to be unfair, and often daydream about correcting them; in my opinion, there's no such thing as not-so-good friends, because either you are or you aren't; i worry about every word i say and the ripples they might create, about not showing enough respect towards amazing people, about how something i did might drive people i cling on to farther away from me, about double meanings understood the wrong way, about how the things i should do take over my thoughts and won't let me breathe, about how i'm still not able to forgive myself for my own past stupidity. i smile at cinnamon and daisies, at the beautiful crinkles around somebody's eyes, at too much infectious affection, puppies and impeccable literature; i wave at security cameras, secretly take care of my worn-out eye make-up in the elevator, hate buying shoes, tend to burst into song while doing some of my miserable cooking, and can't hold back my words if i come to understand that i love you. Laura Tavasse was born in Vienna and is stubbornly holding on to the idea of writing a book one day. Meanwhile, she spends her days studying something completely different, frowning at people on the evening train and petting the neighbour’s cat. Twitter: @venetiana_. |