I get easily attached to boys who can’t seem to smile confidently, as if something is holding them back or if they grin widely enough they start feeling strange.
It’s adorable when boys aren’t sure about themselves, like when they stutter every time they say something nice or when their voices shake when people ask them about their opinions or when they don’t speak at all in group discussions because they are afraid of how people will discern their comments.
I have sympathy for the boys with heavy hearts, the ones who wake up in the morning and already feel like they have lost the battle.
Boys who sit atop their beds, cry a little, and face the day with no plans at all. Those who surrender in believing that the world doesn’t owe them anything, and no longer get their hopes too high so their hearts won’t end up disappointed.
I can understand the boys with the broken dreams, the boys who went through so many job interviews, casting calls, gig auditions, submission entries, only to get rejected over and over again.
I like boys who have made failures, big or small, in their lives and still blame themselves, despite the outcome. The ones who carry their past with them everywhere they go and numb the pounding on their minds with the “could-haves” and “would-haves.” I like boys who feel defeated in everything they do before they even start doing them. Those who get scared that they’re going to mess up again for a millionth time.
I find it endearing when boys become mysterious, when they casually stare at the window and look at the buildings outside, as though they’re studying every single detail of how they were built.
I love the boys that walk alone on the seashore late afternoons and stare at the ocean with such yearning about something they only know. I am attracted to the boys that you can’t read or predict, no matter how hard you try.
I have a caring heart for the boys who have been into several break-ups, girls who were wronged and mistreated by lady-killers, boys who felt like crap for staying with someone who only used them, boys who cried in cold lonely nights and had no one to talk to when they felt like the whole world was closing down on them, boys who had to be so strong for themselves because nobody else would do it for them, boys who still can’t get over the people who abandoned them.
I like boys who are broken because I know that if we give them time, they can learn how to be strong, they can dry their tears out, and be accepting of the reality that crappy days will always be there but there are also good ones to look forward to. And then they can grow resilient in surviving.
I like boys who are broken because if they let their pain be their inspiration, they can motivate themselves to write songs about it, or essays, or movie dialogues, or even book series. They can turn their miseries into something useful, something big, and something that we can all relate into. They can hope again and have the ambitious drive to be successful despite the hardships they endured.
I like boys who are broken because once they find their place in this world, their wholeness can attract people and their laughter can be as entertaining as watching the first snowflakes in winter season.
I like boys who are broken because eventually they discover the power of saying “No,” the amount of care and understanding they deserve from us, the limit of disrespect they can only tolerate.
I’m in awe of their ability to come out of desperate situations and manage to walk away to from ones that ripped them apart.
I fall in love with broken boys because I want to be the guy who fixes them and helps them feel complete. I want to be the person who saves them from the dark, guides them to find the light, and brings them to safety.
I want to be there for them when they don’t have the strength to fight against all their troubles, hold their hands to encourage them, and see them strive to win their internal wars. I want to kiss them goodnight and assure them that tomorrow’s always a better day to make a difference, to have redemption, and to start again.