When did I last speak to him?
What did we discuss? And just how many times have you spoken?
Also, why haven't you coaxed a conversation via [insert popular social network]?
These are the annoying and repetitive questions that circle my mind, of course only after having thought of him. What's interesting now though, is in the past when I was 'infatuated' with him the thought of him accompanied a daydreaming sigh or the instant desire to "be his." I look back now and think it disgusting and immature. I almost wish I could quarantine that parasite in my mind. I mean, of course it's normal to have feelings for someone but the fact that I nearly made it obvious...
Anyways, now I feel I've become hostile; the desire to know is demanding. This has always been a general aspect of my personality, wanting to know more, to be right. I hate to admit it but I suppose it has now become an obsession. I'm unsatisfied, feeling too insignificant to be a part of his world. To him, I'm only fifth business. To him i'm an over-dressed, plain-faced and un-insightful girl with a naive heart and impractical ambition. To him I am none of the above because I'm sure I'm not all that famous in his head. To him I'm a 2-dimensional shape, flat and lacking depth. To him I'm a void. To him, I may not be worth while.
However, I know that I am not shallow, I am not 2-dimensional, nor am I plain or un-insightful. I'm not ignorant nor am I intelligent but that's exactly proved by how eager I am to know him.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
the warmth in the belly of your soul doesn't seek to suck the sweet nectar from my sore heart, swelling with passion and desire.
How it was, what we were. Who you are and what you are--the distinction is becoming clear.
I treat your apathy like a common cold but this is all in vain,
to sit and wait whilst splitting my cares into two, to donate to you.
It's a beautiful burden to care for you and I calculate the reasons to let up
Cuz you're preoccupied with your objectivity
While I'm craving unity
Cuz I'm an alcoholic and you're my flask
And to you I'm just a simple task.
One day I'll be all-encompassing spontaneity
And you'll be the man who demands careful planning and punctuality
But I will run around town and leave you last on the list
My least important deed, likely to be missed.
For the time I spent being seen as a 'task' I have been reduced to being as insignificant and mundane as doing the laundry or taking out the trash.
I still wish to have a mind with potholes where cares were meant to be.