You could say that one is always conscious of the way one looks. Some just have a complex. But those like me are aware that we arent a catch, even remotely.
And hence sometimes it does hurt when we forget this inferiority and walk amidst the clouds of the good looking.
We cant compete. Its simple.
When the cards are drawn, your personality is like the love for scotch. Tempered with time. Nobody just falls for you. It happens. Time.
On the other hands good looks are like a swig of vodka. Strong. Instantaneous. And leaving room for future altercations and affairs. Its just a better first impression.
Hence it doesnt matter if I may care for a girl who I know a little. I may care but i am at one hell of a disadvantage to woo her. Its a small personal story l, that which hapenned tonight, but its best left burried. The present with the future.
The only reason I write tonight to break this unholy consortium of slow Poison and rabid repetition. I fear I am stuck in the rut of the past.
I am a romantic in a realists world.
An idealist asshole with a chink in his armour.
An idiot who thought he could understand the force of the great power that can move worlds!
I admit it.