the gypsy

Do you ever wonder if other people see the version of you that most tickles your fancy? I find that in America, we’re so invested in modesty (I know that sounds absurd to foreign readers, but we are a nation founded by Puritans and the lingering effects of various sects of Christianity make us surprisingly modest sometimes) that we often don’t allow ourselves the luxury of a positive self-image. If I were to allow myself a moment to be vain, I’d like to think I was mysterious, that I projected a vibe not unlike a wizard, a gypsy, or a lone traveler. I’m too honest to be really mysterious though, and I’d probably have more luck thinking of myself as adorably nerdy. Then again, it seems to be the fate of tall people that we just don’t quite manage “adorable” or “cute” so… screw it, this is about the fantasy version of myself, I’ll be mysterious and adorable if I want damn it! ^_~

It’s genuinely difficult not to feel narcissistic when I look at myself in a positive light, a guilty feeling that I’m indulging in something unhealthy. I shouldn’t feel that way; my self-image is not that great and I should enjoy the person that I am and be able to feel good about myself. It’s like having dessert: you should eat it sparingly, but denying yourself from ever having it isn’t healthy either because sometimes food is more than mere nourishment, sometimes the experience itself validates your choice. Would it really be so unhealthy to allow myself a brief indulgence of positive image, to think of myself as handsome, mysterious, adorable, insightful, and witty? Maybe even funny sometimes? Surely it would help my confidence.

He smoothes back long hair with a streak of grey
adjusts oval lenses up a clever nose
strokes a full goatee absent-mindedly
in curious thought: on his face, it shows.

His clothes only seem an afterthought
something to guard his id from the wind
Hawaiian, tie-dye, button-up, rock band
his jeans clearly like many partners.

His words are discerning but often unguarded
(it doesn’t mean that he has no regrets)
sometimes his wisdom is simply profound
but other days keeps it locked in his chest.

His eyes are dark brown, so searchingly
like analytic chocolate in an absurdist play
yet, oblivious, he’ll never guess your crush
as he goes about his mundane, magical day.


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