ArcticOwl

Perfect

You have just finished watching television for the night. Reluctant to get out of your comfortable position on the couch, you turn your head and your eyes fall on him. Although it is late, he is still busy at work at his drawing desk in the middle of the room. A large, fresh, blank piece of paper lies before him, waiting for the artist to create magic. He’s in that gray tshirt that you love, and those pj bottoms you bought for him a long time ago, back in the days when you two just started dating. His hair is dishevelled, his face twisted in that endearing look of pure concentration. His hands begin to quickly move across that sheet, quickly drawing the image that has been born. The only lighting in the room is that old desk lamp, its glow softly falling on his features. And you just sit there, content, and watching him.

I would like to marry an architect

You’re not special. No one is special. Therefore I’m going to treat you as if you are on my level, because that’s exactly where you are: on my level.

No one has the right to ever make anyone feel like they’re not good enough. You pull that on me, and I can assure you, I will crush that ego of yours with the turn of my heel, and I will make it crystal clear that although you managed to play with my insecurity for that split second, I will play with your insignificance for years.