just woke up and feeling reflective.
Recently I realized, or maybe remembered, how much of a child I really am. I whine a lot, I play tricks on people, I act certain ways to get what I want. I realized just how much I like attention, being the first one you'd talk to when you sign in (the second, if your girlfriend is there, if ever you manage to notice anyone beyond her). It's awkward because things are telling me to hate one of you, but I can't, I can't pick. I hate you both for making me feel envious of something I told myself I never needed. And I still don't need it, but, passing glances, every once in a while, I think about it.
I'm the kind of person with lots of things to share. I'm the romantic, not cheesy type. I like to spoil people if I like them, otherwise, I usually make it painfully obvious that I don't. If I hate you but don't want to lose you, where does that leave me? In a position to just accept it, I guess. Even if I'm also the type of person who believes in protest until conditions are met. My conditions won't be met. I probably don't want them to, actually.
Because if either of us were together, B or C, I don't know how long it'll take until the first part of me shows up--the child, the bastard, the selfish. So you two are better together.
A D entered the story now, too, B's ex, and the situation with her is sitting prettily on a fence--it's up to me, if ever I want anything, but it's touchy. B's not over her and I'm still finding myself (B's not over a lot of people, really; there's X, and maybe a Y). I can't read her and neither of us know where we're going, or where we want to go. Am I even moving?
It's difficult around here. Everyone knows everyone, or is connected to everyone in some flimsy yet over-exaggerated way that makes me wish for a stranger. A new face from a new crowd, unattached, heedless, perfectly content with the singular. And it will come; not easily, but naturally.
Recently I realized, or maybe remembered, how despite all this love I give or want to give, for the most part, I really, really hate people.
I'm the kind of person with lots of things to share. I'm the romantic, not cheesy type. I like to spoil people if I like them, otherwise, I usually make it painfully obvious that I don't. If I hate you but don't want to lose you, where does that leave me? In a position to just accept it, I guess. Even if I'm also the type of person who believes in protest until conditions are met. My conditions won't be met. I probably don't want them to, actually.
Because if either of us were together, B or C, I don't know how long it'll take until the first part of me shows up--the child, the bastard, the selfish. So you two are better together.
A D entered the story now, too, B's ex, and the situation with her is sitting prettily on a fence--it's up to me, if ever I want anything, but it's touchy. B's not over her and I'm still finding myself (B's not over a lot of people, really; there's X, and maybe a Y). I can't read her and neither of us know where we're going, or where we want to go. Am I even moving?
It's difficult around here. Everyone knows everyone, or is connected to everyone in some flimsy yet over-exaggerated way that makes me wish for a stranger. A new face from a new crowd, unattached, heedless, perfectly content with the singular. And it will come; not easily, but naturally.
Recently I realized, or maybe remembered, how despite all this love I give or want to give, for the most part, I really, really hate people.