Have you ever met someone so beautiful that you feel embarrassed for them to even look at you, like they’ll look at you and see every single imperfection and be disgusted and push you away for not being as beautiful and alluring as they are? But then for some reason they like you, not any other you, not the you that’s made up with lipstick and posed, but the you in pajamas with crazy hair and morning breath at your absolute worst and it’s almost surreal – and you think to yourself, maybe I’m in a dream, because I feel so unsure, raw and exposed, humany-wumany, but I’d rather you not see me with a hair out of place because for whatever foolish reason I seem to care what you think of me. I care so much that it hurts. It hurts in the pit of my stomach and crawls all the way up into my chest where it sits and clenches my heart, making it so very difficult to breathe, and move, and process things, trying to calculate everything as to not leave you unimpressed or bored or uninterested. I wish I was clever and cunning and beautiful like you, I feel kept, behind the bars of a nonexistent cell I’ve created to protect myself after so much suffering in the past, and I worry that when the words won’t come out, when they can’t come out, when I lack the ability to communicate because I’ve been ever so shaken by the way that you run your fingers so gently through my hair that you’ll leave, and again I will be alone, forlorn, back where I started before a whirlwind of passion swept me up and flowed through me filling every crack in every bone I could never seem to heal. I don’t want to feel this way. I didn’t see it coming. And the worst part is I could never utter a single word of any of this to you. My voice trembles with trepidation, the words won’t come out, and I feel so vacuous, so vapid, so insipid, so undeserving of any of your attention. I enjoy you. I only wish I could tell you.
And how, how did this come to be, that I would be tripping over you, stumbling, faltering, feeling a powerful infatuation but simultaneously feeling so powerless myself. Delicate, handle me like the wings of a moth, fluttering. I could never admit to you how fragile I really feel around you, tiptoeing around sentences and unnaturally letting lust drip from the edges of my mouth. Am I really so easy to read, my motives legibly scrawled across my face in colored crayon? You appear to have me all figured out and know the precise words to say as if you composed up a script using my thoughts as inspiration. I never saw this coming.
When I met you we were of two different worlds, you had come from afar, friend of a friend, and I thought nothing of it. I was preoccupied with someone else at the time, he who shall not be named, we’ll call him, and he was running my life straight into the dirt. Hell, hell on Earth I felt with him, an emotional roller coaster of exponential proportions, and I was trapped, and there was nothing I could do about it. When times were good, they were wonderful. When times were bad, they were egregious. You were a friend to me, and that was it, I never once contemplated the thought of you and I. It wasn’t that I didn’t find you attractive, but, I really am the type to only love one person at a time, and in love I was, or so I thought, until I came to terms with the fact that the person I was with was sick and I couldn’t stand the maltreatment a day longer, so I ran, ran, ran, into a void of loneliness, where I was the only one, no touch, no warmth of anyone else’s caress, no brush of skin on skin or taste of lips cracked and dry. I was alone, and I was broken at first, and slowly, I began to heal. I spent so much of my time crying I thought I might run out of tears – but on and on they came like a waterfall, every little thing reminding me of the wasted time and the screaming and I wanted to badly to escape from my own head, tormented by my own thoughts, until one day it all stopped. I never believed the people that told me it would get better. I foresaw myself in agony until the end of time. Time has the strangest way of healing things… Not completely, but enough to make you work right again. Enough to help you get up and eat something. Enough to stop the pounding in your head. With my healing there came a certain clairvoyance and I was able to live my life in a way I never thought possible. I was independent and I could do anything, go anywhere, be anyone. It was a prepossessing feeling, I woke up in the mornings, early most days, and breathed the air of the world whose weight had irrevocably been lifted from my shoulders. I was free.
Minutes, hours, days, and months passed. My strength was infallible, I was unbeatable in one thing alone – happiness. And then, the holidays arrived, and a wave of seasonal depression crashed down on me with such force I considered taking my own life for absolutely no reason on several occasions. And the new year arrived. The night fell and per usual a get together was to occur with a few choice people, something small, and it did, and I drank alone at the end of the evening, and we laughed, all of us, and even though I was sad things were good. Card games and jokes, sitting by the fire and drinking my beers, I passed out on the couch after running rampant with sparklers and being an idiot, having fun. And still, it never occurred you’d taken a liking to me. I tend to be ignorant to things of that likelihood… How does one perceive something someone else has not yet clearly laid out on the table? But you stayed, and the days went by, and we talked more and more. I wanted to see you more and more. I ended up spending all of my free time with you, I never wanted to leave, it was such a weird feeling, like I had known you all my life yet I was just getting to know you for real. You made me laugh. Not like everyone else, where I’ll chuckle here and there, and every once in a while something will be really funny. You made me laugh all the time, whenever you felt like making me laugh, and that was the first thing I found attractive about you, when before I never looked at you like I looked at a someone I might fancy, all of a sudden, you became so incredibly beautiful to me. So untouchably, unreasonably handsome and I sat to myself and wondered why I hadn’t ever noticed how pretty you were before.
“You know when sometimes you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later they’re as dull as a brick? Then there’s other people, when you meet them you think, “Not bad. They’re okay.” And then you get to know them and… and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality’s written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful.” -Amy Pond