I was restless. Tired of waiting for the doorbell to chime. Waiting for the next guy to walk into my life. I say that as if I were an old hand - as if I had many guys in my past. Actually there had only been a few, and none of them staying for very long. But I was hoping that this one would be it. The big one. The one that fixes everything, puts my life on track, and makes me feel... okay.

I don't think I had felt okay for a while at that point.

I had a pretty good idea what I would see on the other side of that door. 'The perfect guy'. Or someone vaguely resembling that picture of him I had in my head, just enough that I could put faith in him to be what I thought I wanted. I was so clueless about what was actually waiting for me when I answered the door.

It was me. I was on the other side of my door. Now I know what you're thinking: narcissist alert. This girl opens the door to her perfect lover and it's... herself???

Actually it was a mirror, and the mirror had a note.

Dear Jess,

You don't really need me, you need her.

You can't meet me without meeting her.

You can't know me without knowing her.

You can't accept me without accepting her.

And most importantly,

You can't love me without loving her.

I can't wait for that to happen.

So I looked at the mirror again, and I started getting better.

Can’t help but panic sometimes. You lie there so sure of everything - it makes my eyes sting. You’re not perfect. Not my plan. Somehow you’re mine, and it goes the other way too.

Don’t get me wrong, it feels right. We drink coffee side by side. I fall in love slowly. You fell all at once, a long time ago, I can see it in your eyes. And in your touch I know that you would never stop loving me. That’s scary.

We don’t still see other people, but I still watch them. And sometimes I still wish for them. But the thing is I don’t wish for them, because nobody could ever be you. You are everything. I wish for the adventure. The spectacle, even.

There is no clash between my heart and my head - what a cliche. My heart wishes for both - my forever love and my romantic wanderlust, and my head wishes too - to be selfish and stay because I love you, to be selfish and leave so I can get what I want.

To be unselfish and give you me, or to be unselfish and stop you from hurting at my expense?

You smile. Your hair is soft. Your love is unconditional.

I choose to stay, but I still can’t help but panic, sometimes.

(I have two bc I couldn't decide lol. The 1st I wrote bc I was feeling the feels, the 2nd I wrote for an assignment on my course)

Mirror

I found God in the mirror

She told me "I love your entirety

I love it with my entirety"

I said "I don't believe you."

So she reached for me and in her touch I understood

I was undeludedly complete.

Then I looked away and forgot she was there.

Paw

She's living art.

Fiery eyes. They know more than you.

She hides her gaze, rests alone

In plain sight - Up a tree, on a roof, curled up on the sofa only a meter and an eternity away.

'This is what you're missing'

She performs a lazy stretch.

She will never be a pet, a bride, or an alibi.

She's a puppeteer not a queen.

I call her a bitch because she's obviously not a dog -

It makes people laugh.

She's like looking in a mirror,

This side of me I pretend doesn't exist looks back at me.

We love her, and she milks us for all she wants.

You can give in or play her games of give and take,

But whatever road you choose

You're still just travelling across the palm of her hand-

Paw,

I should say.

Because after all that she's just a fucking cat.

I'm from Devon so get on my tra'er and I'll take yer on a journey.

Where's it to - Where is it.

'Ait me lav - Hello dear friend

Spoons - Wetherspoons (It's a pub, no idea if you get spoons outside of the uk)

Send it - Finish it/go for it

Janner - A chav from Plymouth

Innit - Derived from 'isn't it' but used as a general term of affirmation

Going out out - It's like out but outer. The type of out that happens in a club with alcohol and dancing and coming home at 6 in the morning for leftover curry.

You're welcome innit.

I think we're all speaking different languages, here in this room. You think you know what I'm saying, but you answer the wrong question. We think what we want and say what we think everyone will understand. And sure, we can know what everyone is saying, but can we know what everyone is thinking. What you really wish to say, will never be known to us.

"Excuse me miss?"

He loves it when that happens. He loves how awkward they always feel, how they apologise for so greatly offending him by calling him a woman. He doesn't care. He paints his nails.

He has to tie his hair up for work, but when he's free he lets it fall down his shoulders. It gets in the way when he kisses me, but then again, so does mine.

My boyfriend with soft eyes and softer lips, conditioned hair and chipped, black nails. My boyfriend who cries and smiles. My boy, a man.