Sorry Tumblr, you win.

Very crazy, the way life works, if you think about it enough.  

I have yet to physically touch you, yet I know that when I do, I’ll know every inch of you already. So much so that the foreign trails that line your forearms will be the most familiar lines I have ever come across.

I once read the most Tumblr cliché post that said, “My mother warned me about drugs but never about the boys with dark brown eyes.” How lame.  

How lame until you were the boy with dark brown eyes. And here I am.

Sorry, Tumblr. You win again.  

Win.  

Winning.  

What a weird concept. To work toward something for so long that you won it. You didn’t earn it or deserve it; you won it. A prize. A medal. A trophy.  

I don’t want to see you as a prize. I want to deserve you. Every aspect of you. From the thick black hair that you style for 20 minutes every morning because you hate the way it lays flat on your forehead naturally, right down to your fake foot fetish—the one you’re telling me is just an inside joke between us two now and not an actual foot fetish. It’s okay; we all know you have a thing for feet. I get pedicures done. We’re good.

I want to deserve you in the best way possible.  

The hopes, dreams, aspirations, and the childhood stories that make up all the parts of you.  

Ugh, gross. How gross that I want to hold you and protect you and shield you from the world you have no fear against. The world you want to dominate and make your own. How gross that I want to hold your hand in a way where you’ll know that you hold my heart in the palm of your hand and have the power to do what you want with it.

How gross that I want to tell you that no amount of clear blue eyes could amount to the deepness of the dark brown tone your eyes are made up of.

How gross that I finally caved in and associated you with a cliché romantic Tumblr post that was probably written by a 15-year-old girl with an odd obsession with Lana Del Rey.

Btw, girl, stop taking her songs so seriously. You don’t want an old man that's emotionally abusive. I promise.

You want a boy with a cute smile, dumb jokes, and a love for food. One that will say good morning to you every day because he knows it’ll make you smile. One that sends you flower emojis because he’s too far to send you an actual bouquet of flowers. A boy that will send you approximately 13 TikToks a day because he knows they’ll make you laugh since you laugh at stupid things. A boy that will call you to gossip about people you don't know doing things in places you’ve never been to because it’s funny. A boy who's a Gemini and doesn’t know a single thing about astrology, but he pretends he cares—all because he knows you have fun with knowing people's signs. So he’s going to ask his mom what time he was born, and he’s going to let you read him his chart, even though he doesn’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. But it’s interesting for you, so he’s going to go along with it. You want the boy that’s going to ask about your day, your daily outfit, what you’re eating, and what you did throughout the day, even if it’s just switching back and forth between the same two shows all day. You want the boy that’s going to bring peace and calm to your daily life. That’s what you want. The peace, the calm, and the eyes that are going to make you realize that sometimes the cheesy Tumblr posts have a reason for being so cheesy. 

Once again, sorry, Tumblr. You were, indeed, right about the boy with the dark brown eyes.