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jane
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of clever words to say to you
maybe i'm afraid that you've finally stripped of that last layer of my persona. that by now you know me and you love me anyway. i'm afraid that there's nothing left to be afraid of. i don't want to wait; i don't really know what's making me so uncomfortable at the moment.
it seems like every situation i used to enjoy has turned into something like "what am i doing here?" i hate big groups. i hate parties. i used to enjoy drinking and smoking all the time. now i like a cigarette every now and then, usually sitting alone or driving somewhere aimlessly. i like it when people see me smoke; i don't know why. i've always liked it. i like seeing other people smoke too. i feel a bond with someone when we see each other smoking. i can't ramble on about it enough.
but you, there's nothing i can bond over. we've run out of things to talk about because the person i was trying to be to impress you has trickled down to the last drop. you can't make me uncomfortable anymore because i've gotten up and left, turned the pillow over as to avoid the lump. all you are right now is a lump in my pillow.
and i hate when i forget my watch at home. i keep checking my naked wrist for the time, maybe two hundred thousand times a day. each time more frustrated than the next, because i should have known better.
i should have known better than to let you fall into my trap. you're a good man. i'm not good enough for you. i don't know this for sure, but i'm pretty sure no one can even fathom the real me. i wonder sometimes if there is a real me. i think i'm just an observer, that i'm invisible.
i want something normal. somebody i can bring home to my parents, watch movies with, eat in front of, take out with my friends. we have none of these things. i have never met your friends, you have never met mine. i used to be afraid to meet your friends, that they would judge me, but now i'm just afraid that i've run out of things to be afraid of.
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030106
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