Dan

I wish I was your lover. You can see it skimming the surface right below his eyes, almost every time he looks at a woman his age. Any woman, though the manic pixie does seem to show up on his instagram feed most frequently — but maybe that’s just a sign of the times. He’s really quite a deep well. Born under Pisces, the water-bearer. Emotionally brimming, with those ice-blue eyes always on the verge of tears. Soft spoken, but his voice could carry if the situation warranted it. Photographs of him smiling are common, but he doesn’t do it often in life. The crux of it: he can hardly get to the place the engineers his sadness. Logically, everything should be working perfectly. Mirror image, he is handsome: blond hair, sturdy shoulders, smooth skin, straight teeth. Strong hands and terse muscles running up the forearms. So how can he get to it? The nights spent awake, imagining what it would be like to cut the part of his brain responsible for the anxiety, the shaking, all the shit — imagining himself uprooting through gray matter with a spade, hacking through a dead root to make space for a fresh stem to unfold.