Awe Versus Curiosity.
The first time he met me he was in awe, he wanted to see all the different ways he could stretch my six feet frame, he had never seen something so dark with so much range and bottomless, that moved and spoke so well. All of our conversations were littered with flattery and heavy breathing from exhausting ourselves in our private hours. He could never get his filling enough, his amazement was the authority of his hands, digging his fingers as deep as he could, he pulled out all of my makings until nothing was left, he left, at times by force and others by his own discouragement, hungry and eager to be surprised again, he searched for another spectacle.
The first time he met me he was curious. Much like the former man he wanted to try all of my differences. He assembled my peculiarities with the concern of a collector; gathering the speckled rocks of me, dusting them off, leaving some out for further cracking, putting some of me in his pockets, he’d listen to me rattle, said the sound gave him energy, the kind of energy that kept him constant, I overwhelmed his imagination, the idea of me in his imagination overwhelmed me.
Awe, it is akin to being a kid at a circus, its exciting and thrilling to engage with, and maybe for a moment you are swept up in wonder, but its limited. Its a car crash you can’t take your eyes from, its a reality television show, a new job that doesn’t pay enough but you’re happy to find out you got the offer because you’re hungry and in need. Awe is a moment of being in stun, wrapped up, and temporarily thoughtful.
Curiosity, its a taste that is never quite gratified. I’ve met many interested men, but only the curious one’s were worth considering, the key is knowing the difference.