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I'm not sure why I don't want to see you.
You've done nothing wrong. You're a nice person. You're connected. You're smart.
but the thought of greeting you - hugging you - and deferring your attempt to kiss my mouth and devour me eventually - it turns me off. We don't have any relationship where you're not either overtly wanting me or biding your time until I yield to you. And, I was and am so very lonely.
It makes no sense why I don't just suck it up, give you a normal greeting hug say "I'm sorry no" when you try to kiss me and then we shoot the shit and talk about nothing really important to me because you don't seem very into me and what I've learned from my fucking annihilating experience with fucking Noel. and I don't blame you, but it's what I would talk about with any friend.
Without it, I'm left with my anecdotes from the past, feelings about my family, and listening to you. Do you realize that I know your stories? I can almost predict when I utter a keyword that that will launch a tale about dot dot dot.
and I'm grateful for you. For fuck's sake, I've written a lot about you. You're not nada, but I'm going to need a lot more time. Maybe I'm going to need to be a lot more bored and lonely. Or I'm going to have to have a "look, I know I've been messy and caved and carnally pleasured myself with your hope, but fuck. I am over that. I am over my heartbreak... mostly. I am just numb now."
and like Noel, you never ask me really any questions beyond some introductory 'how are you' and you never really delve. I love to delve, and I feel flattered when people want to know what I'm thinking.
And I'm no better than you. I'm not the trophy you've called me. I'm just a weirdo who ensconced myself in layers of bizarre programming to try and understand "why".
There's a story I love. Maybe you know it. It's about a princess who wanted the moon. Her father loved her so much that he got all the advisors and wise folk together and demanded they get the moon for his daughter. They all freaked out. Maybe he threatened banishment if failure.
But finally, one of them thought, "let's go ask the princess 'what do you think the moon is?'"
and she answered a beautiful gold orb the size of my thumb.
I can't remember my father (watch me whine) doing one nice thing for me except for one time in almost pre-verbal times (the only times he was still around). I was maybe three, and he listened to me. Actually sat down and paid attention to me and asked me questions. It was so momentous, I even recall it now.
so, I've spent my life demonstrating what I want.
I give you attention.
I give you questions.
I give you focus.
I give you my tremendous powers of analysis.
I give you my story.
always.
love me?
ha. that's not really the point. the point is more.
see me.
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