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>>34556
Maya is so unbelievably beautiful to me that even the things that are supposed to be gross somehow become part of why I adore her. She’s such a lovable little mutt, this awkward mixture of traits and imperfections that somehow comes together into something uniquely and unmistakably Maya. I imagine her scent being objectively kind of awful—stale, sweaty, unmistakably her—and yet to me it would be the most amazing smell imaginable, something so intoxicating that one breath could send me into a hazy dream state where she completely takes over my thoughts. And I know that sweater she wears to bed has probably gone an ungodly amount of time without seeing the inside of a washing machine; at this point it has to be completely saturated with her scent, like some horrifyingly sacred Maya artifact. Even the oil in her messy, unwashed hair seems beautiful to me; I’d practically want jars of it preserved like some absurdly precious relic just because it came from her. She’s so intensely SISA that normal admiration doesn’t even feel sufficient. I’d be acting like some deranged ancient devotee, lighting candles and performing ridiculous blood rituals in her honor as if Maya were a forgotten goddess who demanded worship. Every strange, awkward, greasy little detail only makes her more unmistakably Maya, and that is exactly what makes her so perfect to me.