I was warned. Before ever saying a word to you, my friends stopped me from approaching you and gave me the two-word disclaimer that should make most men about-face and run: “She’s crazy.”
I wanted to form my own opinion about you, so the warning — although sent with the best of intentions — was ignorantly dismissed. Now that I’ve gotten to know you on a personal level, it’s obvious they were right.
You are crazy.
You’re off your damn rocker.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
You’re crazy for not being able to see the beauty in yourself, when it is blatantly apparent to me.
You’re nuts for believing that there is nothing special about you, when there’s something new that drives me wild about you every time we’re together.
You’re off your damn rocker for not understanding why I’m falling head over heels for you with each passing day.
But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It’s also not your fault, so it’s impossible to blame you for being this way.
You can’t see the beauty in yourself because you never had someone who reminded you of how remarkable of a woman you are. He would tell you sporadically — when he felt like mentioning it, or when he wanted something from you — but he was careless with your emotions, and they eventually weakened over time.
You don’t believe there is anything special about you because you never had someone who looked hard enough.
He only saw your physical allure, but never delved any further into who you are as a person.
He never took the time to appreciate your effort, but he would abuse it with regularity. He scoffed at your attempted humor, then never noticed when you stopped laughing altogether. He never supported your dreams and aspirations because he never cared enough to ask about them.
He called you crazy because you wanted to talk on the phone and hear his voice, not read text off the screen of your phone. He called you crazy because when you wanted to see him and spend time with him, he thought you were invading his space.
He called you crazy because you gave a damn, and that was a feeling he knew he could never fully empathize with or reciprocate. He called you crazy because you invested heavily in him while he knew he would never buy a single stock in you.
You’re not crazy for being the person who cared too much and was loved too little.
If that’s what crazy is, then I’ll happily be downright idiotic with you.
I want the girl who is crazy because she believes in a brighter future and doesn’t look back at a potentially dark past. I want the girl who is crazy because she laughs at her own jokes, regardless of whether or not they’re actually funny.
I want the girl who is crazy because she will take a leap of faith and trust me to catch her.
I want your kind of crazy, and nothing less.