this feels so good.
“I’m tired of molding myself around my surroundings. Isn’t that what happens while you’re growing up? Where you are defines who are you, for the most part. I never understood the kids who didn’t think just like everyone else. Who taught them that? I felt like I never had a choice. I never knew there was another way out, another way to be a person, to live. I never dropped the habit, of fitting in. It’s gotten so much worse. I find myself wanting to be the person everyone falls in love with and can’t live without by making myself the person I believe they are looking for. But when everyone is looking for someone different, it makes it so hard. I don’t know who I am, at all. I know everyone says that, is there a way to make this sound less cliché? I try to remember who I am by thinking of all the people I have tried to become, from the people I have tried to become them for. Whenever I do anything, I think of who would approve and who would not. The music I listen to, the food I buy and eat, the sports I play, the things I say…everything I do is for someone else. Someone once told me I am selfless, and I never lost the word. I am selfless, and not in the way which some people are, who give to the poor or adopt mentally challenged children. I do not have a self. I comprise myself based off of the people I have ever tried to love, and there are many. If the human race had a mascot, I would be it. I like to think I’m the easiest person to fall in love with, but who wants a person who can’t think for themselves? I’m so independent, so funny and convincing and beautiful, but I don’t believe any of that. I am the perfect woman and the one you never want to be with because she can just as easily be with someone else.”
She’d never once opened her eyes. This was her monologue, he realized, and she didn’t expect applause or surprise. She had her eyes closed against the blinding lights of all reality. The wind was picking up the darkness and carrying it towards the house. The darkness was very cold, and he never realized that the shield he carried to keep it out was the fact that he never had questioned any of the things she had. He had himself to rely on, always, but she had nothing to fight back with. He wanted to tell her he loved her no matter who she was, and that perhaps she had it all right. What are humans but copies of what they have seen? Children learn common phrases from their parents, they learn how to dress and what to eat. Maybe while everyone was trying to become their own person, she had it right, trying to make everyone feel they had accomplished this. She was completely selfless, in the perfect way, in a way he had never seen. The fact that she knew this about herself made her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The darkness was consuming her face, pulling the tears out of her eyes and across her lips.
He stood up and walked towards her, trying to imagine letting who he thought he was go. He was nobody. He had met so many beautiful women, who all wanted things out of him he’d always believed he couldn’t give. He was who he was. Boys will be boys. This woman wanted nothing, and he suddenly wanted to give her everything. When he leaned next to her chair she didn’t even turn her head. He began by holding her hand and letting the other rest behind her head. When he kissed her, she knew. At first she was slow, hesitant to letting another person in to her mosh pit of personality and self. She was able to forget all the people she thought she was under his weight. It was the perfect amount of weight to make her feel at home. Like a child finds comfort underneath many blankets and pillows, for the first time she felt at home under a complete stranger.
In other parts of the country, the many men that had sought for women to complement them felt the darkness a bit more. The women they had found that supposedly filled every void seemed a bit more like another woman on the street. Inside her head, every song she had ever written to, made love to, and cried to, played in an incomprehensible symphony.
She’d never once opened her eyes. This was her monologue, he realized, and she didn’t expect applause or surprise. She had her eyes closed against the blinding lights of all reality. The wind was picking up the darkness and carrying it towards the house. The darkness was very cold, and he never realized that the shield he carried to keep it out was the fact that he never had questioned any of the things she had. He had himself to rely on, always, but she had nothing to fight back with. He wanted to tell her he loved her no matter who she was, and that perhaps she had it all right. What are humans but copies of what they have seen? Children learn common phrases from their parents, they learn how to dress and what to eat. Maybe while everyone was trying to become their own person, she had it right, trying to make everyone feel they had accomplished this. She was completely selfless, in the perfect way, in a way he had never seen. The fact that she knew this about herself made her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The darkness was consuming her face, pulling the tears out of her eyes and across her lips.
He stood up and walked towards her, trying to imagine letting who he thought he was go. He was nobody. He had met so many beautiful women, who all wanted things out of him he’d always believed he couldn’t give. He was who he was. Boys will be boys. This woman wanted nothing, and he suddenly wanted to give her everything. When he leaned next to her chair she didn’t even turn her head. He began by holding her hand and letting the other rest behind her head. When he kissed her, she knew. At first she was slow, hesitant to letting another person in to her mosh pit of personality and self. She was able to forget all the people she thought she was under his weight. It was the perfect amount of weight to make her feel at home. Like a child finds comfort underneath many blankets and pillows, for the first time she felt at home under a complete stranger.
In other parts of the country, the many men that had sought for women to complement them felt the darkness a bit more. The women they had found that supposedly filled every void seemed a bit more like another woman on the street. Inside her head, every song she had ever written to, made love to, and cried to, played in an incomprehensible symphony.