Hello, I Dislike You Intensely. Have a Nice Day.
Alex's Point of View.
An inadvertent work of guerilla art, written in Sharpie on several pages of an expired phone book which were ripped out and taped to the shell of an old payphone, who had lived for many years in front of the old-time family drugstore at the corner of 6th and Old Pike Road, which would close down forever on November 1st and unofficially become a lodging-place for vagrants and out-of-work prostitutes:
My head is such a fucking mess right now, it's not even funny. In fact, it passed Funny two nights ago without even stopping for gas or fast food and is now barrelling recklessly toward Pathetic. From the soup that is my mental state, there are only three things I can clearly discern.
One, is that I love her and I can't get her out of my head, and I don't care because I like it like that. In fact, when I'm not around her, a huge chunk of my mental capabilities are devoted toward recreating conversations we had down to the detail, or constructing ones we might have in the future. Maybe I need a life, but this alternative seems just fine to me.
The truth is, I am drunk on her words and on the words I speak when I'm talking to her. Also, I am drunk on her voice and the shape of her fingers and the way she sneezes and her laugh her laugh her laugh, and the excited gestures she makes when she talks. I like that we don't fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. Some parts of us do but other parts are just a little bit off.
It scares me sometimes, knowing there's only one of her in the entire universe. If something happened to her, I don't know what I'd do. I wouldn't be able to do anything anymore, I guess. And that scares me too, how one person could absorb me so much, how one person that used to be just a person could suddenly explode and touch everything I see. How they could burst to be interminably huge and stretch over your head like a second sky when your first is drowning in clouds; or linger on your tongue like a second language when your first fails you. Shit, it's magic. It's got to be. I can't explain it.
I wish I didn't have to write this second thing, but I can't keep this to myself anymore. The fact is, I didn't break up with my previous girlfriend like I told her I did - she actually broke up with me.
That was hard to write.
Which brings me to my third thing. See, if my first girlfriend had never broken up with me, I honestly don't know if I could've brought myself to break up with her and pursue my current girlfriend. And I hate how spineless this makes me feel.
It was a shock, ----- saying the things she did. I never would have imagined her saying those words; I was so afraid it'd be me who would say them to her. I think we'd be better off as friends. I'm sorry. Please don't be hurt, because you're great. You're really, really great and I don't know where I'd be without you. It's no one's fault, there's nothing wrong with either of us. But I just don't feel like it's working out for me.
The thing is, I thought she really liked me. I thought she was happy with me, and all the rest of those cheesy sayings about completeness and whatnot. I guess I never thought she would stop liking me.
Predictability can be a very good thing, actually. I've always been drawn to ---- by her unpredictability, but there are some not-so-nice things about it too. Like accidentally saying the wrong things without knowing they were the wrong things. Or touching on pet peeves I had no idea were pet peeves. Or rubbing her the wrong way when I was trying to cheer her up. Even though we haven't really known each other that long, I won't lie and say it isn't frustrating and sometimes like walking on eggshells; which is an awful, sad thing to feel with her because we ordinarily know each other so well. Every couple says that, but I mean it. Every couple means it, but I...well, I don't know. I feel things, and I translate those things into words, but somehow it still falls short.
I remember how she wrote in one of her journal entries that she was bipolar, and I haven't forgotten. Stupidly, I thought I could cure her, that now that she had someone, it made all the difference. It makes half a difference. I'm still angry I can't control the other half. There were days when she pushed me away and said she wanted to be alone and she looked so sad when she said it I was scared for her. I didn't want to leave her to herself because it seemed like the worst possible thing, but I did in the end. And when I saw her the next day she was sort of better and by the end of the day she was almost herself again and I figured it was like having a cold. But there were also times when she was so happy and weightless, she talked to so many people and she couldn't quit talking and she would kiss me in the middle of the sidewalk like we were on a boat sinking into the ocean. Only she would later collapse on my couch, pulling the blanket over her and not moving or talking at all. It scared me a lot. It scares me a lot.
When I think of her like that, so still and shut-down, I feel like I can't possibly tell her the truth about me and -----, I just couldn't be that horrible. But she'll overhear other people talking, and piece it together eventually. And she'll know I lied. If she hears it from anywhere, though, it's got to be from me.
It's gonna be so fucking hard.
If we suddenly became the only two people on earth, I wouldn't tell her. If the population of the rest of the school didn't exist, I wouldn't tell her. I just wouldn't be able to. But I'm in a situation where it's got to happen. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will.
My head is such a fucking mess right now, it's not even funny. In fact, it passed Funny two nights ago without even stopping for gas or fast food and is now barrelling recklessly toward Pathetic. From the soup that is my mental state, there are only three things I can clearly discern.
One, is that I love her and I can't get her out of my head, and I don't care because I like it like that. In fact, when I'm not around her, a huge chunk of my mental capabilities are devoted toward recreating conversations we had down to the detail, or constructing ones we might have in the future. Maybe I need a life, but this alternative seems just fine to me.
The truth is, I am drunk on her words and on the words I speak when I'm talking to her. Also, I am drunk on her voice and the shape of her fingers and the way she sneezes and her laugh her laugh her laugh, and the excited gestures she makes when she talks. I like that we don't fit together perfectly like puzzle pieces. Some parts of us do but other parts are just a little bit off.
It scares me sometimes, knowing there's only one of her in the entire universe. If something happened to her, I don't know what I'd do. I wouldn't be able to do anything anymore, I guess. And that scares me too, how one person could absorb me so much, how one person that used to be just a person could suddenly explode and touch everything I see. How they could burst to be interminably huge and stretch over your head like a second sky when your first is drowning in clouds; or linger on your tongue like a second language when your first fails you. Shit, it's magic. It's got to be. I can't explain it.
I wish I didn't have to write this second thing, but I can't keep this to myself anymore. The fact is, I didn't break up with my previous girlfriend like I told her I did - she actually broke up with me.
That was hard to write.
Which brings me to my third thing. See, if my first girlfriend had never broken up with me, I honestly don't know if I could've brought myself to break up with her and pursue my current girlfriend. And I hate how spineless this makes me feel.
It was a shock, ----- saying the things she did. I never would have imagined her saying those words; I was so afraid it'd be me who would say them to her. I think we'd be better off as friends. I'm sorry. Please don't be hurt, because you're great. You're really, really great and I don't know where I'd be without you. It's no one's fault, there's nothing wrong with either of us. But I just don't feel like it's working out for me.
The thing is, I thought she really liked me. I thought she was happy with me, and all the rest of those cheesy sayings about completeness and whatnot. I guess I never thought she would stop liking me.
Predictability can be a very good thing, actually. I've always been drawn to ---- by her unpredictability, but there are some not-so-nice things about it too. Like accidentally saying the wrong things without knowing they were the wrong things. Or touching on pet peeves I had no idea were pet peeves. Or rubbing her the wrong way when I was trying to cheer her up. Even though we haven't really known each other that long, I won't lie and say it isn't frustrating and sometimes like walking on eggshells; which is an awful, sad thing to feel with her because we ordinarily know each other so well. Every couple says that, but I mean it. Every couple means it, but I...well, I don't know. I feel things, and I translate those things into words, but somehow it still falls short.
I remember how she wrote in one of her journal entries that she was bipolar, and I haven't forgotten. Stupidly, I thought I could cure her, that now that she had someone, it made all the difference. It makes half a difference. I'm still angry I can't control the other half. There were days when she pushed me away and said she wanted to be alone and she looked so sad when she said it I was scared for her. I didn't want to leave her to herself because it seemed like the worst possible thing, but I did in the end. And when I saw her the next day she was sort of better and by the end of the day she was almost herself again and I figured it was like having a cold. But there were also times when she was so happy and weightless, she talked to so many people and she couldn't quit talking and she would kiss me in the middle of the sidewalk like we were on a boat sinking into the ocean. Only she would later collapse on my couch, pulling the blanket over her and not moving or talking at all. It scared me a lot. It scares me a lot.
When I think of her like that, so still and shut-down, I feel like I can't possibly tell her the truth about me and -----, I just couldn't be that horrible. But she'll overhear other people talking, and piece it together eventually. And she'll know I lied. If she hears it from anywhere, though, it's got to be from me.
It's gonna be so fucking hard.
If we suddenly became the only two people on earth, I wouldn't tell her. If the population of the rest of the school didn't exist, I wouldn't tell her. I just wouldn't be able to. But I'm in a situation where it's got to happen. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will.