2008-06-05
I think it's funny. I make up excuses not to talk to you, I barely manage to reply when you try a conversation (and you do try; which is also confusing). Like I don't even like you. Except that I do, and I get violently jealous, but even that doesn't actually make me want to talk to you.

It'd be okay, acceptable, if this was how I function with everyone; but rather than talking to you, I write long rambling messages to people I barely even know and have never met. With them I'm funny and cute and weird and charming; unafraid.

And this is a pattern for me. I use almost-strangers as crutches; focus my energy on them, rather than deal with people I am actually close to.

In my daydreams, I manage to just stop; not stop talking to the crutch people, but stop whatever bullshit it is that makes me incapable of being my unrestrained self around you. In these dream-visions of life, I just wake up one day, free of intangible you-related angst, and I am there, laughing, and being the foolish figure I know how to be, and you might act surprised, but I just laugh at you - not raising my eyebrow, not picking the most ambiguous ords - and I say hey, sure, alright, i'm done, i'm done being something else, and everything is different.

I know my fool-self doesn't necessarily generate a lot of fans, and sometimes I hate it because, good god, it makes me likeable, but - of course - that's why I want it back, too.