Jump Then Fall

I like the way you sound in the morning
We're on the phone and without a warning
I realise your laugh is the best sound I have ever heard

It's hard to imagine, for those who haven't been there, these feelings and how they affect every single little detail of your life.

I am infatuated, and my heart pounds, and I can hear the blood rushing in my ears. I fumble for things to say when I'm around him, and when I'm not-- the words keep rushing out. Everyone around me is tired of hearing about him--

But it's not really him I'm talking about. It's me- my soft, fluffy feelings, my hurt, my thoughts and tiny, trembly hopes- all spilt out of my mouth and into the air, making vague cottony shapes that clog up everyone's ear-holes(not him again, they groan) and they don't realise it's the most selfish I've been in forever(or at least, since the last one).

I like the way I can't keep my focus
I watch you talk but you didn't notice
I hear the words but all I can think is
We should be together

Infatuation is a selfish interaction. You always think you're giving more than you get, but what you offer isn't really worth much, is it? Sure, you run around doing favours, but for the more selfish among us--yours truly included--they're followed by this vague resentment that would never occur if you really, genuinely wanted to help. It puts a bite into every word and every gesture, lends a new bitterness to every memory.

Cause every time you smile, I smile
And every time you shine, I'll shine for you

Don't put yourself out for her if she doesn't and/or won't feel the same, I scold. In the back of my mind, a sinking feeling tells me that I'd do the same in his shoes. So I give him a wry smile, pat him gently on the back, and agree that it's a shitty feeling.

Woah, I'm feeling you baby
Don't be afraid to jump then fall
Jump then fall into me
Be there, I'm never gonna leave you
Say that you wanna be with me too
Cause Imma stay through it all so jump then fall

The Listener

I am an expert at faking smiles. 

It’s what I’ve always done, always thinking about other people and other people’s feelings and their problems. Why bother them with whatever useless emotion I’m feeling?

He was the only one I never tried to hide with. He listened to me: not to other people, no, they bored him. But I was this hurt person and I was his person. It felt good to be heard. I could talk and talk and not worry about judgement or boredom. Of course, I listened in return. But that’s what I do. 

I’m a listener.

I listened to him all the way through his friendship with her, the ups and downs, the fights and the birthday surprises. And I listened as he told me we were too different, that he couldn’t hurt me or hide it from me anymore. I listened all the way to the door, and beyond.

I listened when he told me he’d moved on, when my traitorous heart was still hoping against hope that things would go back to the way they were. I listened when he had fights with his new girlfriend and he needed to vent, the ache in my heart not fading but growing sharper, it seemed, with time.

And I began faking smiles again.

New Year's Resolutions

...which I am most definitely not going to talk about. I've spent so much time above the water that I'd almost forgotten what that secret underwater world looked like. But the real world stung me, hard and fast, and I retreated.

Now I've reconnected with what I've been missing. It feels good. It's a buffer between me and everyone and everything else. Nothing can hurt me.

...
...
...right?

I like sites like 9gag and Cracked because they provide me with interesting--occasionally disgusting--sometimes sweet information and make-believe. It's hard to distinguish between the last two categories. I suppose it's easier to just assume everyone on there has no reliable source unless their post absolutely convinces you that something is 'for real'. Because you don't want to believe and/or reproduce any of the information or stories on there unless you're damn sure that they haven't stolen it/photoshopped it/made it all up.

But they're hell entertaining.


Also. I can never have enough people to care about. The tugs in my chest don't pull too many ways, they just pull whenever you're around. So it's okay. I'll be there for you when I'm there, and that's the important thing, right?

(Of course, the same has to go for you. But it will.)