My Green-Eyed Boy

When I first saw you, I thought you were hot.

As I got to know you better, I thought you were no longer hot, but handsome in your own way. You are beautiful in a way only people who love you can see, because I've been told by those who don't that you are skinny and ugly.

I beg to differ, but deep down, I know it's because they don't share the same connection.

Seeing you makes me laugh, because everyone agrees that's what you do best. You bring smiles even upon the faces of teary-eyed strangers. They say you have Attention Deficit Disorder. But you are proud of it, and we too, are proud of you because ADD or not, we love you anyway.

You don't have the best voice in the world, but when you sing, you mean it. That's why they say, "Sing it like you mean it." You always mean it. I can hear it. We all can.

But I haven't always agreed with you on everything. There were days when I find that you acted a little too immaturely, too insensitively. Of course, you were a teenage boy then, and somehow, I have always known that's just an exterior. Those beautiful brownish-green eyes of yours always seem to dance to a tune different from what you portray.

As years pass, I no longer obsess over you the way I did when I was younger. But in my heart, I know that even though I no longer remember what your favourite food is (wait, it's sushi) or your favourite colour (it's still black, isn't it?) is or the fact that you adore zebra prints, I know that I still love you. I may sound insincere, but yes, I've always loved you.

David Philippe Desrosiers

Feeling slightly nostalgic.

Sigh.

The Carmenata.