I am not the kind of guy who will stay up at night obsessing over the complexities of a relationship.
I am not the kind of guy who will lay in bed for many long and sleepless hours determining the subtle undertone and subtext behind each word used in shared conversation.
I am not the kind of guy who will refuse incessantly to let go of what is harming him even though he knows time poisons.
Going over the past with a fine, fine tooth comb has never been a nervous habit of mine.
I am not the kind of guy who carefully files away his fears in his head, hoping that they will become simpler and less monstrous with alphabetization. I don’t pray for the world to erase my nervousness at your proximity, I don’t twist my hands into forms that I imagine ours could become, wishing with all my might that I had the power to reach out my fingers bravely toward yours, but
I’m not that kind of guy.