gabrielle
queen of angst
"Why me?"
It's an easily understood thing as to why it would be asked, and maybe one of the most difficult to answer simply because of the reason of its mention. It's rooted in self worth, or at least thats what I'd assume it to be. I believe this because it makes sense to me that if you value yourself enough, there should be no question as to why someone else would see it and share the same love you have for yourself. There is value in all you are, even the things that aren't the best simply because of the acceptance of them speaks volumes. It's difficult to answer because we see the same things, yet hold different values. It's like trying to explain to someone why a certain color is your favorite when another person is witnessing it as well as you are and just don't see the allure in it. But of course, you can always try to get your point across. So you better be fucking appreciative for this shit because who the hell argues about why one color is better than the other. (Let me tell you though, red is definitely the best. It's intense, and passion is the thing that always leaves the most satisfying impression) At first it was the way you spoke, or the lack of. And if I'm wrong, then it was the way you spoke softly enough for me not to notice. Knowing myself to pull the same habit, it brought curiosity, and that's how you caught attention. (Well, aside for the first time we spoke. I spent the whole week after that conversation way too excited over someone else liking Nirvana even though I hadn't even known your name. At the time those who liked the band were rare to me, and I was glad that someone else saw what I did in the band. Even so, that's not my point. I calmed my shit eventually, and that was the end of that. I'm talking about August, not whenever the words of "I'll see you in chemistry then, right?" were spoken with a smile out of a half assed flirting endeavor just for the hell of it. It wasn't my intention to get sidetracked here.) What I'm trying to say was that the relation I was able to draw in that behavior had me wondering if the reasoning behind it was the same as mine as well. Regardless of that, I didn't put in much thought into trying to find an answer being I knew it wasn't my business and overall, that it didn't matter anyways with the near complete lack of conversation between the both of us. I turned the curiosity into a different thing: a respect for the fact that you seemed to listen to what others said without forcing your words over theirs before a sentence was even completed. I had to respect it, because I've almost always been around people who weren't like that. Those that would ignore everything I would say, turning their backs. After so many years of putting up with the blatant exclusion, there was bound to be a time that my complacency for it would be lost, and in that newly found lack of tolerance of being treated so poorly, there would be an appreciation for those that would appear to value others enough to at least be polite. It was there that you had made your first right with me, even if it was entirely unbeknownst and unintentional on your part. What followed in making these feelings what they are, is in due respect because of my own impulsiveness in the mania of a certain affliction, but that's not what I want to talk about. The reckless actions of approaching you without thought or intention of planning it were brought up by the question of who would be the best choice. I don't notice many people let alone pay them enough mind to regard any desirable traits or feel the need to want to speak to them with the way I'm content contemplating things in my own silence, but that question needed an answer. You were the first to come to mind and the last; it was the way you seemed respectable that made it that way. Others that I knew were just too immature and not necessarily making the best decisions in their lives, and I respected myself too much to even entertain the idea of it. Sure, I kind of got the hint that drugs were no stranger to you, but who am I kidding, I've known them as well. It's not something I could use against anyone when it's something I've been around myself. That's why I always tell you "I get it, you don't have to explain," every time you mentioned the subject and seemed maybe a bit stressed over not wanting to look bad. I just never mentioned my own use because there's no importance in it. Of course a story is behind it, but it's not something you'd probably want to hear. Anyways, so because I was impulsive, picky, and the way you held yourself came off as more than decent, that's why. But I'm sure you're asking more than this. I just can't ever give half of a story. What came after was uncomfortable, I do have to admit. In the days and weeks following, I ended up dreading that decision to say to hell with keeping the impulsiveness in check. I dreaded it because of the abruptness of it and ridiculed myself for the lack of thought that had gone into it. For all I knew things would go terribly, terribly wrong, and it would all be of my own doing. Things were awkward, and I knew they were. It was because I didn't know you, and at that time I wasn't able to help hatefully questioning myself why I had ever put both of us through the discomfort of it or why you had even agreed to it. I didn't see any of it as a romantic thing nor did I intend for it to be as such. If I did, that'd just be downright ridiculous being I barely had any impression on you at all at the time. That, and I hadn't really had feelings for anyone after I broke up with Michael. Which was, mind you, almost three years ago, and there is a reason for this that is very clear to me: that occurrence had worsened whatever commitment issues I had at the time to something much more demanding. But you know, I dealt with it and of course began taking things more seriously whenever you seemed to be regarding me in that way. I found myself catching any sort of feelings pretty late. I remember feeling terrible for it too, because I found it to just be straight up mean to continue talking to you whenever I knew I didn't see it as romantic. I kept trusting it that things would happen eventually, and well, they did. I can recall the moment that I realized it, too. I was in our kitchen home alone with all the blinds in the room open. It was a Sunday. I'd been outlining a biology chapter for hours by then with my phone playing music as loudly as it could beside me. I was thinking about things as I usually do, about everything and nothing, and as the Everlong version from the Skin and Bones album started playing, the thought of you came up. I don't know what it was, but maybe it was just the romantic feel that I got from the song and lyric: "If anything could be this real again." I had to stop and think about a topic that had been bothering me pretty frequently at the time: was it wrong to be talking to you without me holding genuine romantic feelings while possibly leading you on? It was at that point that I had finally given myself a definite answer. No, it wasn't. It wasn't because I enjoyed spending my time with you, and I wasn't ever given a reason to think anything otherwise. If I have ever given off any feelings of not wanting to speak to you, it was because of my own faults. "This'll just end badly." "There isn't even a point to this." Etcetera, etcetera. But as I usually do, I resolved that. There is a point to it, and what I came up with was that relationships like this are made to teach you how to treat the one you will end up marrying and how to accept being treating in the same way and ultimately at some point, to find that person. That person may be the first one you entertain or the twentieth, but either way, all relationships will matter. So with that resolution and realization that I didn't completely hate you touching me (as I usually do with most people) along with being able to appreciate your presence, I decided that I did like you in some sort of romantic way no matter how small it had been. Of course it swayed in weeks following, but I figure that's something you couldn't care less to know about. I didn't allow myself to actually like you any more than that until we clarified things into something more official. (Thanks, Gwen Stefani) I did this more or less for the sake of myself. There is bound to be pain in rejection, so defense mechanisms kicked in and kept me for getting any strong feelings unless I was sure that they were reciprocated. Like I've said before, pessimism is the best thing out there. So past this, what was it aside for nice conversations and impressive values? I'm not so sure if I can explain this well aside for the givens. Talents make you admired and impressive; altruism can make you appreciated; interests make you, well, interesting. This can go on, but this isn't the type of answer I want to give. I like the way you walk. You move like you're not even real; languid and graceful without looking like you're even trying all while keeping an air of confidence. That's not real. That's the kind of stuff you read about in romantic fiction novels. I like the way you care for others. You're gentle. Your hands always seem steady. I can see the affections shown through small actions, and as much as I'm made near entirely uncomfortable with it just because of my own complicated reasoning, I know it's there and it is appreciated even if my own lack of gracefulness with it makes it seem otherwise. I like the way you have kind words and a subtle smile. You don't seem to speak very ill of others, and that's something to be respected. You're genuine. I like that you have something you believe in. I like you for who you are. Not for what you can do.
It's an easily understood thing as to why it would be asked, and maybe one of the most difficult to answer simply because of the reason of its mention. It's rooted in self worth, or at least thats what I'd assume it to be. I believe this because it makes sense to me that if you value yourself enough, there should be no question as to why someone else would see it and share the same love you have for yourself. There is value in all you are, even the things that aren't the best simply because of the acceptance of them speaks volumes. It's difficult to answer because we see the same things, yet hold different values. It's like trying to explain to someone why a certain color is your favorite when another person is witnessing it as well as you are and just don't see the allure in it. But of course, you can always try to get your point across. So you better be fucking appreciative for this shit because who the hell argues about why one color is better than the other. (Let me tell you though, red is definitely the best. It's intense, and passion is the thing that always leaves the most satisfying impression) At first it was the way you spoke, or the lack of. And if I'm wrong, then it was the way you spoke softly enough for me not to notice. Knowing myself to pull the same habit, it brought curiosity, and that's how you caught attention. (Well, aside for the first time we spoke. I spent the whole week after that conversation way too excited over someone else liking Nirvana even though I hadn't even known your name. At the time those who liked the band were rare to me, and I was glad that someone else saw what I did in the band. Even so, that's not my point. I calmed my shit eventually, and that was the end of that. I'm talking about August, not whenever the words of "I'll see you in chemistry then, right?" were spoken with a smile out of a half assed flirting endeavor just for the hell of it. It wasn't my intention to get sidetracked here.) What I'm trying to say was that the relation I was able to draw in that behavior had me wondering if the reasoning behind it was the same as mine as well. Regardless of that, I didn't put in much thought into trying to find an answer being I knew it wasn't my business and overall, that it didn't matter anyways with the near complete lack of conversation between the both of us. I turned the curiosity into a different thing: a respect for the fact that you seemed to listen to what others said without forcing your words over theirs before a sentence was even completed. I had to respect it, because I've almost always been around people who weren't like that. Those that would ignore everything I would say, turning their backs. After so many years of putting up with the blatant exclusion, there was bound to be a time that my complacency for it would be lost, and in that newly found lack of tolerance of being treated so poorly, there would be an appreciation for those that would appear to value others enough to at least be polite. It was there that you had made your first right with me, even if it was entirely unbeknownst and unintentional on your part. What followed in making these feelings what they are, is in due respect because of my own impulsiveness in the mania of a certain affliction, but that's not what I want to talk about. The reckless actions of approaching you without thought or intention of planning it were brought up by the question of who would be the best choice. I don't notice many people let alone pay them enough mind to regard any desirable traits or feel the need to want to speak to them with the way I'm content contemplating things in my own silence, but that question needed an answer. You were the first to come to mind and the last; it was the way you seemed respectable that made it that way. Others that I knew were just too immature and not necessarily making the best decisions in their lives, and I respected myself too much to even entertain the idea of it. Sure, I kind of got the hint that drugs were no stranger to you, but who am I kidding, I've known them as well. It's not something I could use against anyone when it's something I've been around myself. That's why I always tell you "I get it, you don't have to explain," every time you mentioned the subject and seemed maybe a bit stressed over not wanting to look bad. I just never mentioned my own use because there's no importance in it. Of course a story is behind it, but it's not something you'd probably want to hear. Anyways, so because I was impulsive, picky, and the way you held yourself came off as more than decent, that's why. But I'm sure you're asking more than this. I just can't ever give half of a story. What came after was uncomfortable, I do have to admit. In the days and weeks following, I ended up dreading that decision to say to hell with keeping the impulsiveness in check. I dreaded it because of the abruptness of it and ridiculed myself for the lack of thought that had gone into it. For all I knew things would go terribly, terribly wrong, and it would all be of my own doing. Things were awkward, and I knew they were. It was because I didn't know you, and at that time I wasn't able to help hatefully questioning myself why I had ever put both of us through the discomfort of it or why you had even agreed to it. I didn't see any of it as a romantic thing nor did I intend for it to be as such. If I did, that'd just be downright ridiculous being I barely had any impression on you at all at the time. That, and I hadn't really had feelings for anyone after I broke up with Michael. Which was, mind you, almost three years ago, and there is a reason for this that is very clear to me: that occurrence had worsened whatever commitment issues I had at the time to something much more demanding. But you know, I dealt with it and of course began taking things more seriously whenever you seemed to be regarding me in that way. I found myself catching any sort of feelings pretty late. I remember feeling terrible for it too, because I found it to just be straight up mean to continue talking to you whenever I knew I didn't see it as romantic. I kept trusting it that things would happen eventually, and well, they did. I can recall the moment that I realized it, too. I was in our kitchen home alone with all the blinds in the room open. It was a Sunday. I'd been outlining a biology chapter for hours by then with my phone playing music as loudly as it could beside me. I was thinking about things as I usually do, about everything and nothing, and as the Everlong version from the Skin and Bones album started playing, the thought of you came up. I don't know what it was, but maybe it was just the romantic feel that I got from the song and lyric: "If anything could be this real again." I had to stop and think about a topic that had been bothering me pretty frequently at the time: was it wrong to be talking to you without me holding genuine romantic feelings while possibly leading you on? It was at that point that I had finally given myself a definite answer. No, it wasn't. It wasn't because I enjoyed spending my time with you, and I wasn't ever given a reason to think anything otherwise. If I have ever given off any feelings of not wanting to speak to you, it was because of my own faults. "This'll just end badly." "There isn't even a point to this." Etcetera, etcetera. But as I usually do, I resolved that. There is a point to it, and what I came up with was that relationships like this are made to teach you how to treat the one you will end up marrying and how to accept being treating in the same way and ultimately at some point, to find that person. That person may be the first one you entertain or the twentieth, but either way, all relationships will matter. So with that resolution and realization that I didn't completely hate you touching me (as I usually do with most people) along with being able to appreciate your presence, I decided that I did like you in some sort of romantic way no matter how small it had been. Of course it swayed in weeks following, but I figure that's something you couldn't care less to know about. I didn't allow myself to actually like you any more than that until we clarified things into something more official. (Thanks, Gwen Stefani) I did this more or less for the sake of myself. There is bound to be pain in rejection, so defense mechanisms kicked in and kept me for getting any strong feelings unless I was sure that they were reciprocated. Like I've said before, pessimism is the best thing out there. So past this, what was it aside for nice conversations and impressive values? I'm not so sure if I can explain this well aside for the givens. Talents make you admired and impressive; altruism can make you appreciated; interests make you, well, interesting. This can go on, but this isn't the type of answer I want to give. I like the way you walk. You move like you're not even real; languid and graceful without looking like you're even trying all while keeping an air of confidence. That's not real. That's the kind of stuff you read about in romantic fiction novels. I like the way you care for others. You're gentle. Your hands always seem steady. I can see the affections shown through small actions, and as much as I'm made near entirely uncomfortable with it just because of my own complicated reasoning, I know it's there and it is appreciated even if my own lack of gracefulness with it makes it seem otherwise. I like the way you have kind words and a subtle smile. You don't seem to speak very ill of others, and that's something to be respected. You're genuine. I like that you have something you believe in. I like you for who you are. Not for what you can do.
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