art by Narniakid on DeviantArt
Look. Listen to me. L-hey, you're not listening!
I did too tell you to do it the first time.
Well now that your head is partially turned in my
direction - Goddamnit, didn't I just tell
you that it was a stupid thing? It's not worth paying attention to! Look at me!
Oh, okay, okay, you're actually watching me. You're
- okay, okay, I...um...wow, it's like I've forgotten what I had to say. Heh.
All right, see, it's like this. The first time I saw
you, I was terrified. I'm not even kidding, I was trembling. Oh crap, you're
chuckling at this. You're actually chuckling. God, I'm making such a fool of
myself.
Oh, you weren't laughing at me? I believe you.
Anyway, what I wanted to say was - you were so
bright. Dazzling, in fact. Do you know that in the Bhagvad Gita, when Krishna blows off this spiel about
dharma and fighting and shit to Arjuna - you know, I've always liked the guy
despite everyone now saying how arrogant he actually was - anyway - so when he
reveals his true form to him, to convince him or something, Arjuna had to cover
his eyes? Because Krishna's true form was Vishnu, and Vishnu preserves the
universe and the universe is so vast and incredible that a human couldn't
comprehend it and that's why he nearly burned Arjuna's eyes out? That's what
you were like. For me.
Oh, crap, I've digressed. Here - I'm here for heaven's sake! Okay.
So after I finally got up the balls (heh, I'm a
girl) to talk to you, let's just say that the dazzling thing? Didn't stop at
your appearance. I mean, you were something different totally. Here I was, a
naive child, so goddamned stupid and innocent, and you knew
everything that would take me years to catch up to.
So I tried to be smart. I wanted to talk big, talk
smart. All so that you could get that gleam, you know, that gleam you get when
you're like, 'Ah-ha. This is worth
paying attention to.'
Good God, it was like trying to break through a
wall, only to find bars of steel were actually holding it up, thicker
than...well, whatever's like the thickest thing in the world. Ahem.
I spoke too quickly. I rushed over my words. I
ranted over things I knew close to nothing of, just to impress you. I wanted to
be Hermione - no, Harry Potter is not just
for children! - brightest star! Prodigy! Somebody different! And you were so cool about it - you listened so very
closely at first. I felt elated. I was the crowned one, amongst every other
girl who vied for your quick, sharp smile, your sardonic nod, your face
suddenly softening in those rare moments, while I watched you constantly. NO I'M
NOT A STALKER.
(PLEASE - ahem, please put your hands down. I am
calm. I am Zen).
Yes, you were definitely kind. It could be anything,
a work of art your friend had done that you appreciated, a nervous kid who'd
lost their way and just needed a word of advice, a fan (not me) who was
obsessed with you and you never, ever, not even once told her off. It was her right to be obsessed with whoever she
wanted. As long as she didn't watch you sleep.
But you listened to her.
I loved that about you.
Love.
And me? I contradicted everything you said just to get you to talk to me. It was so
hard at first; I was jealous of anyone you conversed with, anyone who lit your
cigarette (it's a nasty habit by the way) and got your sudden, grateful grin in
return. Anyone you glanced at. It had to be me.
And I tried. I tried so hard, believe me. I tripped
over my own feet in my attempts, I showed off my talents only to realize that
you'd seen better, and in turn, whatever I did took a turn for the worse. You
made me fidget, scratch at non-existent itches at the nape of my neck, scream
when I should have whispered, push when I should have desisted, doubt myself,
look at my toes more than what was normal - damn.
I had no self-esteem around you. I had to slip into
shoes that fit exactly what you liked, tailor-made to your tastes. I wanted to
be your soul mate.
YES, IT'S BULLSHIT , ALL THAT SOUL MATE NONSENSE.
Please. Please - don't mock me, don't be a cynic now.
And - and then, that fateful day. She came. The
unexpected woman who'd - excuse the fairytale cliché - sweep you off your feet.
You still talked to me in a familiar way. But my
crown was gone. I didn't matter anymore.
You should know that I didn't cry. I wept.
One by one, those who knew, confirmed. She had done
the impossible - worn that stone heart down. You see, the difference was that
I'd rushed headlong into it, and gotten a Tom-and-Jerry-cartoon-sized bump,
instead of the clarity that's supposed to come with realization on the other's
part.
She just had to be.
The tears didn't come the way you'd think. My heart bled
hard.
(Yes, it was real enough for me).
The hole yawned wide. And everybody I knew told me,
'Move on, you guys are different people for God's sake! Why do you care so
much? He's an assh-le! He's not for you, you're too young, too trusting, too
hopeful, too childish. You're an oddball, he's not. Just find someone who'll
accept you for who you are.'
Please tell me. What was wrong with me? I knew it,
it was the talking. No, no, that time I thought you were being serious and when
you said it was a joke, everyone around started laughing while I blushed. No,
f-ck, it's that time at the party where the three of us - you, me and her -
were talking and you were just standing so
close and I swear I could hear the crack. On the inside.
Oh, I stopped giving a flying f-ck ages ago. You're
almost my mentor. We can chill. We can talk normally. No, I do not still
experience flutters in my stomach when you hug me. No, definitely don't mention
you in every other conversation. Nope. Wasn't me who toasted you drunkenly when
it was graduation day for you. We're friends now.
WHY WASN'T I ENOUGH?!
(No, I'm not f-cking crying! They're angry tears!
I'm not upset!)
So what now? Why aren't you saying anything? What
are you thinking? Please don't leave me hanging. How will you react?
Hah, and as this page (3 pages to be exact) blurs
before me and my eyes burn with the effort (totally not the sorrow - f-ck, just
look at me!), I'm just going to crumple this one up and throw it into the
growing pile of sickening love confessions. Mine, to you.
I'm going to relax and watch you talk to her, touch
her shoulder, smile at her like I wanted you to smile at me, like I thought you
actually did at one point of time.
What a child I am.
I can't tell you. Never.
(Okay, okay, I just sent you a message! Check your
phone!)
And the circle begins
once more
