Dark, possibly even dangerous.
Has a chip on his shoulder, along with magnificent shoulders.
Everywhere he goes he carries a raincloud above his head.
If you could describe him in one word, that word would be brooding.
He hates everyone and everything, yet simultaneously craves affection and for someone to take care of him.
I can be that someone. I can fix him- I will fix him.
He often retreats to solitude, posting passive aggressive statuses on Facebook like “wondering if it was even worth it in the first place”.
His catch phrase is “You wouldn’t understand.”
His hobbies include sulking and writing poetry in a small notebook that he carries everywhere with him, but won’t show anyone.
His dream in life is to have a dream.
His favorite holiday is Halloween, because of course.
He remains brutally unaware of his own pretentiousness, which just makes him all the more attractive.
On a typical Friday night you will find him in the corner at a party, complaining about Donald Trump to anyone who will listen and repeating “Feel the Bern” ad nauseum.
He has a guitar that he does not know how to play. He just strums it delicately every few minutes when he’s not writing poetry.
If you ask him what he’s thinking about, it will most likely be something obscure, like Kato Kaelin, or whether or not humanity is a weapon created by a malevolent God.
The most private thing he’s willing to admit is that he doesn’t know what a Supreme Court Justice is.
I love him.