Different Stars.

I'm not tall, dark, and handsome. My chest isn't chiseled and the only six-pack I'll ever get in my life will probably be a six-pack of beer. I express myself in prose rather than posture and symphonies instead of sex appeal, because everyone knows that sex sells but only a handful of people are capable of looking through my outer walls and seeing the splendor that is swelling up within my soul. I see young women, pretty faces blessed with charm and beauty and grace but clueless as to how to properly use them, and I think to myself, "What a shame". If only some knight in shining armor would come and sweep them all off their feet. But the truth is, this knight would only be labeled as one of two things: a player or a bore and no matter what name he would be given, his chances would be shot. And in this hasty, foolish, impractical chase for perfection is where we as romantic beings forever linger, not even once giving a thought to the wonders that lay right before our feet.

We all have the power to change. The irony lies in the fact that we choose not to. For now, I'll keep on chasing.