anodized wingtips

Your confidence. Your hardheadedness. Your pride.

All combinations of the same few tactical emotions, and all ones that I have, too.

(More: service, self-sacrifice, hesitance, stubbornness...not fear.)

Your jaw creaks when it opens, and mine stutters. Stutters in its fascination, most like. Because you are such an intriguing puzzle. You make me realize things about myself that I didn't think I wanted to know.

I call you impulsive, a bullrush of nuts and bolts moving far too fast for your stature, your composition, but then what am I?

I'm the same, but made of paper. Brittle, and thin. Easily cut, easily shredded, easily folded and cast aside. Easily pinned up to immobility, because I am always overthinking. Even a strategist has to remember not to think too much, sometimes.

But you...you're not so easy to ignore.

I don't only wish to co-opt your strength. I would like to share it. Be bolstered by it.

I don't like being at odds with you, you know.

And you're a...a mudder, if you took me at my word. The lack of them, rather.

Don't just let me study you. Let me learn you. You know I'm always open to that.