September 15, 2011

  • unbreakable

    No one understands me quite like you do,
    through all of the shadowy corners of me.

    - Landon Pigg

    -+- 

    "You know what?  You really encourage me to be myself, and I don't think I've articulated how appreciative I am of that.  Before, well, I kept trying to change myself for the people around me, and it just never felt natural.  But for once, being myself feels like it's actually... good enough."
    "But why did you ever try change who you are?"
    "I don't know.  I guess I just wanted people to like me."
    "Christa, we all want to be liked by people.  But if you change yourself just so that people will like you, then you lose your own identity.  You lose who you are, and that's not worth it.  But, what confuses me is... I don't know why you'd even want to change who you are.  Honestly, a lot of people pale in comparison to you.  You really shouldn't even be listening if anyone tells you otherwise, because you're probably better than them anyway."

    Damn.

    -+-

    What are they like, the skeletons in your closet?

    You're an impossible person to comprehend.  I should despise you.  I should be putting a 50-foot pole between you and me.  I should hate you, and I should be disappointed in you.   I get so angry at you sometimes, and you make me so confused -- your mind is impossible to interpret, and your passive-aggressive words keep biting me like a harsh winter.  You are possessive, even though I was never yours.  You get so derisive when I walk away.  You make me so exasperated.  I can never understand what is happening inside your head.

    But you're such an anomaly... that it's fascinating.  I just know that behind this front, there's a story.  You're a train wreck that happens just outside of my field of view, but I can see the hordes of ambulances and police sirens surrounding you, trying to save the people strewn about in your wreckage.  And I can't take my eyes away.  I am wondering what is happening, wondering what kind of disaster lies ahead. 

    I just want to know what your real story is, and what your ending will be.   I just want to know, can someone fix you?  Or will you always be so bitter, so one-track minded, so apathetic, so jaded?

    Wherever I walk, my eyes search for you, to behold you in all of your disaster.  Every time I step into a room, I must search everywhere, scan all of my surroundings.  I must reassure myself that you are not in the room, before I can keep moving with a clear conscience, to know that I am steering clear of your catastrophe.  Otherwise, I feel like I am off-guard.  I feel vulnerable.  I feel like I am susceptible to your bullets.

    I never realized before just how many people look like you until I became intensely paranoid over the idea of bumping into you.  There's a lot of people with your frame, your height, your hair.  There's a lot of people that walk like you, and dress like you.  Too many people, because it never ceases to make my heart stop as I do a double-take to make sure that it's really not you.

    It's one thing when I don't find you.  There is a huge wave of relief, but there seems to be a perpetual anticipation.  There are undertones of dread, yet there is also disappointment. 

    Other times, you are the epitome of, "Be careful of what you wish for." 

    I see your profile, and I wonder if you are going to turn around and see me.  Sometimes, you don't, and I evade your radar.  Other times, when I see you, it is after I have already drawn your gaze.  I then wonder how long you have been looking at my profile, wondering if I was going to turn around and see you.  But our eyes meet, and we smile at each other.  It is the polite thing for us to do.  I raise my hand and wave at you.  You nod and wave back.  Then I pass by you, inches away from grazing your shoulder, neither of us making a sound.

    My phone is always my saving grace.  The air becomes tense and we both wonder what to say, if we should say anything at all.  But if I look down at the buttons in my hand, pretending that I am preoccupied, then we can both pretend that nothing awkward is happening. 

    We pretend that you never said those things, and we pretend that I never asked you if we could still stay as "just friends."  I pretend that I've never heard all those stories about you, and you pretend that you barely know me.  We pretend we never spent those late nights rolling in laughter, and we both just keep walking on by.

    Sometimes, this campus is too damn small.

    Today, I sat down on the bus, waiting to go home after a long string of classes.  This boy sat down next to me and greeted me with a compliment.  He seemed friendly and charismatic.  I wanted to introduce myself, and make a new friend.  But I saw the way he was stealing glances at me.  I saw his interest.  I saw his fascination.  And I decided I couldn't go through all of this again.

    And it makes me wonder if... I'm going to end up as jaded as you.

    LOL, so I guess it was true, I was never cut out to be cold-hearted and nonchalant after all. >_>