I Cannot Figure You Out

I cannot figure you out even though I have spent hours overanalyzing the texts you have sent me and the pictures you have posted online and the smiles you have thrown me from across the room. I replay every conversation between us on a loop, I think about you all the time, but for some reason I am still having trouble dissecting you.

I cannot figure you out because you are such a private person. You never give me too much information about yourself at a time. You keep yourself closed off, you keep your heart guarded. You watch what you say and avoid spilling secrets. You stop yourself from getting too close.

I cannot figure you out because you act differently on different days. I’m never sure which side of you I am going to get. I never know whether you are going to respond to my text within seconds and joke around with me or whether you are going to leave me waiting for hours until you respond with one word. There are days when you are flirtatious and days when you are distant, but I haven’t figured out the pattern. It seems completely random.

I cannot figure you out because every time I think I am making progress, every time I feel like I am finally starting to understand where you are coming from, you throw me a curveball. You reveal something from your past I never expected. You make a comment I never could have pictured coming from your lips. You keep surprising me. You keep me balanced on my toes.

I cannot figure you out because there are times when you contradict yourself, when you have holes in your stories, when you tell little white lies. There are times when you say one thing but act like you feel a  completely different way. I’m not sure when you are being real with me or when you are only putting on an act. I can’t tell the authentic you from the counterfeit you.

I cannot figure you out and my unanswered questions have been driving me crazy. I can never predict whether you are going to be excited to hear from me or annoyed. I can never guess how you are feeling at any given time. You are a mystery to me. You do not make any sense. I cannot pinpoint what makes you tick.

I cannot figure you out and the most frustrating part is how well you have me figured out. You can read the emotions straight off my face. You can always guess what is running through my mind. Whenever you make an assumption about me, it’s spot on. You know me so well but I am still struggling to learn the basics about you.

I cannot figure you out for the life of me. A part of me likes how complicated you are, a part of me likes the mystery, but another part wishes I knew what the hell you were thinking.