I don’t know him. Present tense.
I would want to know him. Conditional.
I slammed shut the laptop. Okay, wait I didn’t. That was just the writer in me getting out. I could have dramatically turned an indifferent streak and opened a new tab. Or gone on with my pretentious stabbing at the keyboard. But I didn’t.
With a wide open mouth, and drool sliding down- okay, okay, the intensity was slightly lesser. But I did.
I had just watched him. Raw face. Still the nice voice I’d heard before. And slightly scrawny.
There were some times that I knew I couldn’t write well. When I’d look at the topic assigned to me, or the scene that I thought was essential, and just know – there was no magic I could fill this blank page with. And then I’d tap these plastic keys like I was pressing down the chord of C Major and some how I knew the melody that would follow without even playing it before. I surprised myself. The para that was supposed to be an in between piece, now suddenly had brilliance oozing from it. gain, romanticizing.)
That was what I felt after the YouTube video had long finished playing. He surprised me.
Whenever I watch anything, or read a book, I always anticipate the end. Always, always. I can’t stress enough of how much I’d guess and how much logical reasoning and rationalizing rolls round in my head when I want to know the end of any story. And if you gave me even a million tries, I wouldn’t have been able to guess how he wrote this ending. He surprised me.
I guess if it wasn’t for that damn video I’d still be feel horrible for having a crush on another jerk in my class.
I simply chose between two evils.
So, as a normal blogger what I did just now was type this huge ass essay of all the firsts I observed about this Boy. And it didn’t feel right. So I backspaced the entire thing. Because he will be reading this. And he doesn’t need to know of all the firsts. The first time I said hi to him, or the first time I saw his JC picture, or the first time I even heard about him. It doesn’t matter. I’d be like that 13 year old obsessing over her 16 year old crush.
But I guess in a way he was my 16 year old crush. He isn’t perfect. He doesn’t even come to the definition. But hey perfection is a social construct! Kkk. All this while I kept telling myself that I had this image in my head of what he is like. And that was the only reason I found him remotely worth anything. I even went as far as believing that there are these certain details that I liked about him that maybe makes me tick. Its nothing else, just those few things. Its not him.
As I stared at my phone screen, different versions of the truth floated in front of me, all equally probably. So I’m not going to tell him the truth. Instead I will ask him how many clouds he had seen in the day and he’d tell me the exact number.
And that will be my happy ending.
If I had gone from he never actually wanting to talk to me to hitting on my-cough, I mean nothing, um it was still something that surprised me. And that’s the thing, it doesn’t matter if I like him or not, that’s not the point. It is whether or not I wanted to talk to him which mattered most to me. And at the end of the day I did. I guess I’d give up everything for that, even love.
There are a few things I believe in.
And one of the things is that we humans are extremely dramatic beings, from the way I started this post to the movie Gravity. I know what you’ve done. And I know you’ve tried. But I want you not be afraid to try again. And this belief that you have that you’re a bad person, no matter how true it is, is just anther dramatic social construct. It is a cage.
But just because I’m saying this doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I do. I wouldn’t ever preach to you and say that you have the ability to change and humans get better if they want to. But all of this is just my belief and beliefs are nothing but safety nets. I believe there is good in people because if there isn’t I’m going to break. You believe you don’t deserve to be happy because if you are and then its taken away from you, you’re going to break.
So no I’m not going to argue with your beliefs. Cause I want you to believe whatever makes you stronger.
But I also want you to know that there is so much to you. I am not saying this because there is a fictional you in my head. I am still trying to find the right words to say, trying to type this fast enough so I can go to sleep before 4:30 and I’m trying say whatever I have left. And it doesn’t matter, the person you are, there will be people who are going to try for you, who you will push away, and who will fail.
I have this theory on love. It has many holes. But I think we fall in love with those people who we want to heal. And sometimes they love us back, and we let them heal us. The most difficult thing is letting someone else mend all these broken things within us, but over time we do find some people who are capable. And if we’re lucky enough then their chapters are long ones, the ones with the heart wrenching quotes, terrible plot twists and memorable endings. Those are my very favorites.
I think we all deserve to be healed. Otherwise the entire point of love is defeated. We need to find the right drugs to get us going. The drugs that have a legit prescription and can be shown to a pharmacy. Because those are the only ones that can help us.
I still believe in getting healed, no matter how long it takes. I hope you too do. (←Stupid dyslexia thing just happened.)
You’ve told me so much and scaling it is impossible. Fitting it into one post is not justice. But I’m not going to forget. People meet tangents. Some tangent points are bigger than others. Someday I might get past this point, or maybe I won’t. But I will not forget. It doesn’t change anything.
I didn’t know him. Past Tense. (Stupid italica isn’t working here.)
But he will smile. And so will I.
“He looked like art. And art wasn’t supposed to be beautiful; it was supposed to make you feel.”