Don't Stop Believing.

Gyuck. Disney Movies.
Its like a cough drop, really. You know how those are? no matter how much they try, the company never quite finds the way to make a cough drop not taste like a cough drop. There's still that medicinal odor that sticks to your palette like some freakish super glue, refusing to wash away the coating its put on your tongue. The taste of fake cherry that ironically doesn't taste like cherry at all lingers in your sinuses and through your tastebuds and it will take hours to release the smell.
Bitter. and harsh. and obstinant. and Pacifying.
This awful, dirty, grubby little word called love. Please.
I trap myself like this all the time and I have no one to blame but me. The beautiful princess, kind to everyone and brimming over with grace. Everything about her is lovely and clean and good and real. She goes on adventures and is discovered by a prince in a cape with no personality and sickening perfection.
Its not that. I don't want a prince. Not the hallmark kind. Not the disney prototype.
Its the bait. the mouth watering desire thats irresistable to my stupid, oversensitive heart. The way he looks at her when he thinks she isn't looking. The things he tries to do to catch her attention. Its not how he marvels at her, but the change he sees in himself, the desire to be part of something more, something else. The nearly invisible change when he discovers that he just wants to know her heart.
hook, line, and sinker.
and the trap claws snap shut.
Please know that I dont intend to throw a pity party. If you're here to accuse me of that then the door is the same way you came in.
You just have to understand that after coming from years of guys upon guys thinking I'm gross, I'm a little tired of peeling the scab back time and again. And it hurts. every time.
Even more so when I turn my back on my lovely King, either to focus on my tears, or to hide them. I'm ashamed for wanting anything. Even the whittled down versions of what could be livable.
And yet when I walk down the stairs and push open the glass doors to make my way to sleep, I only hear one whisper, hushing; "keep believing. Don't stop"
I never wanted castles. or stark, white horses with carraiges. or princes in big boots.
Just that look. just...you.
but WHY? heaven and earth, why should I believe that I should anticipate something I don't need and that stems out of desire coming from ME, ME, ME?
I can't explain. I dont know how. I just have to cling to the promise that, even when it doesn't make sense in any direction--that He is good. And He knows what He's doing. even when He tells me "Don't you DARE give away the desires of your heart. I put them there." When I'm sure that no desire I could have could be good.
"Keep believing. don't stop."