I'll keep on making playlists for myself. I'll take apart every piece of who I am until I am someone that I can be proud of. I'll mold myself around the different music artists that enter my life. And when I think I'm all perfect, I'll make another change to that skin.
If I could imagine a perfect man for myself, he would have the rocker vibe. He would play around and laugh while grabbing me into a bear hug. Laughing together we would jump through time. He wouldn't know much about beer making but gladly listens to my Dad anyway. And with my brother he would have nothing in common. In fact, the two would feel estranged with each other. When we met at holidays they could never be left alone with one another. Drinking silently they could only share awkward glances, desperate pleas to be rescued.
My mother might make him angry, but I wouldn't care either way. He would understand how she was and what her words meant. His mother couldn't be more opposite. A little too interested in her son's life, she would be difficult to ignore. His father would be the troublesome one, like trying to crack a safe.
Yes, the idea of a man can go a long way. At the end of the night, I am happy to not have met anyone yet. I don't know who I am yet. I'm still an unfinished sculpture. I'll just keep on.
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Fragmented Self who wanders through life like a dreamer and wades through the river of dreams as though it were the only truth left in this world
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