4/8/2022
There is a girl with pretty eyes.
I want to talk to her more. She seems cool, she seems chill.
I am afraid. Oh I am so deathly afraid of fucking up. I am afraid that she'll find reason to dislike me and turn away.
I am afraid of making the same mistakes.
I fear that I think of her. I fear that I think of her and do not know her.
I fear that I wish she was mine, yet I fear that in wishing it, I've condemned myself into a prison of my own making.
A prison of yearning. A prison of the unknown. A prison of awkward interactions and overthinking.
Maybe I am inclined to fall in love with every girl I see for a short time.
Maybe I fall in love with the hope that she could maybe love me.
I fear I am a strange nasty thing. I fear I am twisted by desperation. I fear that having been left alone too long, I've become rotten and odd. That when she looks into my eyes she is scared of what she senses but does not know.
Does she know that I fear her? Does she know that I want to see her more?
I've seen the way women in love look at their objects of desire. It is an intoxicating gaze that I have always wished was trained on me.
I fear that girls with pretty eyes see right through me. I fear that girls with pretty eyes see just how much I adore them, and then feel like they must turn away.
I fear girls with pretty eyes because I fear that they'll fear me.
I fear that they sense the impure thoughts I wish I didn't have. I wish I didn't get giddy when she speaks to me. I wish I didn't think about it for hours afterwards.
Sometimes I wish I didn't think at all. Sometimes I wish my heart wasn't full of storms, threatening to pull someone in.
I know I've only ever scared people away.
All except one.
But even then, in the end I drove her away because I was to scared of myself.
I want to be calm. I want her to come near.
I feel doomed. I don't know how to forfeit longing. I don't even think she's gay.
And maybe I'm just looking in all the wrong places.
Maybe I'm doing everything wrong.
I feel like an ugly twisted thing because of everything I've done, and everything I've had to do. Everything I've had to learn, and everything I've ever wanted.
I've had to change too much that all I was left with was a deep sadness for the world, and an anger of smoldering ashes.
A sense of self-importance that doesn't leave enough room for someone else.
And yet still a terrible longing to be loved, while not at all knowing how to go about it.
I feel doomed. I feel I am the wrong person for love and I don't know if I have enough of me left to turn myself into a person able to survive such a thing.
It's not that I feel undeserving
In some odd narcissistic sense I feel I deserve all the love in the world
But I feel like love is something that finds other people
I feel that love avoids me like oil on water
Something I want, but can never have
It taunts me, like something brightly colored, yet poisonous
It feels deathly for me like a fatal allergy
It feels like something that wasn't meant for me. A thing designed for certain kinds of people. Certain lucky folks in the right place and time and the state of mind.
It feels like I could never be any of those things. Except for once. But I was so afraid I'd let it go.
So I was not in the right state of mind.
Perhaps I'm terribly unlucky I guess.
I feel doomed. I feel I am not the right person. I feel I will scare her away.
Why did she have to have pretty eyes?
Why did she have to be there in front of me at all?
Why do I hate my love for a stranger so much?
Because I was taught how awful it can be to love someone who will never love you back.
You cannot change a person's mind once it's made up about you. You cannot win when they're in love with somebody else.
No matter how good you are. No matter how much you love yourself. No matter how fantastically you display your talents. If they've already decided you're not worth their time, you've lost.
Maybe I am still sore from that crazy year of being out of my head. In a way, I think I will always carry those scars.
I tore myself apart and ripped my world to shreds for someone who would never EVER care.
I carry that fear of loving someone who will never care, onto strangers, feeling it was always my fault.
I can't change some things about me.
I will never be that ditsy pretty blonde.
I will never be like her.
I could never give you that status or family prestige.
I could never have her sort of life.
Not even close.
You could never want me because you wanted my opposite.
I was everything you didn't want.
And why do I feel that carried over onto my view of the world? As if I am everything the world didn't want me to be.
Maybe I am. So what? It's not like I care.
Or maybe I do and I just tell myself it doesn't matter...
I fear girls with pretty eyes because I fear I will never be what they want.
Because I've had enough of trying to be anything other than what I am...
I'm not trying to be good like I used to.
It would break my heart to know someone didn't like the real me.
I beat myself up until I cry, because if it's not my fault for not being who they wanted, then I don't know who to blame.
I want... to be okay.
I don't want to be scared by pretty girls.
I don't want to ache and beat myself up for liking them.
I'm just real screwed up, aren't I?
Just take my feelings away. They aren't doing me any good.
I fear that girls with pretty eyes have already decided I'm not worth their time.
I fear that my love for them is sorely misplaced.
I fear that love was never meant for me, because it decided I wasn't worth their time.
I fear that somehow I already decided that love wasn't worth my time...