sinkoman
Party Escort Bot
- Joined
- Dec 2, 2004
- Messages
- 7,457
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Haven't written anything in quite some time, so excuse me for the shitty plot. It isn't finished either, but god knows it'll probably never be finished...
It was quite an interesting night, and while my opinion does border on "frustrating", I'd much rather say that tonight was confusing.
She avoided me all evening. God not only knows why, but also bestowed me with an intense feeling of frustration. Why the hell can't this shit be a tad more straight forward? Why must she beat around the bush? Then again, perhaps it's a bit much for me to assume that she'll take the initiative. Maybe I need to muster it out of myself.
You see, I was trying to get close to her. Of what I knew, she took neither a liking nor a hating to me. Hearsay has told me that she actually rather likes me, but I'd rather not delve into the dark crevices hearsay hides within, lest I submit myself to extreme disappointment. I freaking hate being vulnerable.
I came home about 9:40ish, and conversely left at 9:40ish. I can't stand being home early, as my curfew hides in the eleventh hour. I told myself, "I need to find myself", but to be entirely honest with myself, I really wanted to call her. To tell her to come outside. To hold her, and tell her how I felt.
It was quite a romantic idea (in both scale and emotion), and it might have even worked, if not for the fact that I'm not one much for social situations.
So I walked. 'Twas quite an interesting night. The norm is for one to find cars barreling down the road at a consistent pace (consistency not to be confused with a numerical presence), with joggers about. I instead found myself to be rather alone the entire night. One jogger, and few cars.
So I walked, towards her house. I wanted to call her, tell her to come outside. Just to see her sweet and uncorrupted face, and to hear her soft and innocent voice.
But I didn't. I knew how that'd end. I'd fire off some lame predetermined line off at her, she'd respond, and then we'd stand there, face to face, consumed by silence.
I hoped to maybe find her brother outside, carrying on with some menial household chore. Perhaps he'd be taking out the garbage, wave to me, and ask where I was going. I'd tell him, "I'm off to go find myself", and leave him with that cliched and puzzled look on his face, go inside, tell his whole family what I'd said, and maybe then they'd see. See just how much of a romantic I could be, see me for who I really am.
I did eventually end up at her house. It greeted me with a triumphant sigh, breathing an overwhelming silence over my moist eyelids. No brother outside, taking out the trash. No urge to call her, and tell her I wanted to hear her voice. No guts, with which to shout to the heavens how I felt for her.
I paused for a few seconds, contemplating my defeat, and carried on. My journey now bore none of her indecisive weight, and now focused only on what I'd told myself I "needed" to do. I had to find myself. I'm not too sure what that meant, but I just had to do it.
It was quite an interesting night, and while my opinion does border on "frustrating", I'd much rather say that tonight was confusing.
She avoided me all evening. God not only knows why, but also bestowed me with an intense feeling of frustration. Why the hell can't this shit be a tad more straight forward? Why must she beat around the bush? Then again, perhaps it's a bit much for me to assume that she'll take the initiative. Maybe I need to muster it out of myself.
You see, I was trying to get close to her. Of what I knew, she took neither a liking nor a hating to me. Hearsay has told me that she actually rather likes me, but I'd rather not delve into the dark crevices hearsay hides within, lest I submit myself to extreme disappointment. I freaking hate being vulnerable.
I came home about 9:40ish, and conversely left at 9:40ish. I can't stand being home early, as my curfew hides in the eleventh hour. I told myself, "I need to find myself", but to be entirely honest with myself, I really wanted to call her. To tell her to come outside. To hold her, and tell her how I felt.
It was quite a romantic idea (in both scale and emotion), and it might have even worked, if not for the fact that I'm not one much for social situations.
So I walked. 'Twas quite an interesting night. The norm is for one to find cars barreling down the road at a consistent pace (consistency not to be confused with a numerical presence), with joggers about. I instead found myself to be rather alone the entire night. One jogger, and few cars.
So I walked, towards her house. I wanted to call her, tell her to come outside. Just to see her sweet and uncorrupted face, and to hear her soft and innocent voice.
But I didn't. I knew how that'd end. I'd fire off some lame predetermined line off at her, she'd respond, and then we'd stand there, face to face, consumed by silence.
I hoped to maybe find her brother outside, carrying on with some menial household chore. Perhaps he'd be taking out the garbage, wave to me, and ask where I was going. I'd tell him, "I'm off to go find myself", and leave him with that cliched and puzzled look on his face, go inside, tell his whole family what I'd said, and maybe then they'd see. See just how much of a romantic I could be, see me for who I really am.
I did eventually end up at her house. It greeted me with a triumphant sigh, breathing an overwhelming silence over my moist eyelids. No brother outside, taking out the trash. No urge to call her, and tell her I wanted to hear her voice. No guts, with which to shout to the heavens how I felt for her.
I paused for a few seconds, contemplating my defeat, and carried on. My journey now bore none of her indecisive weight, and now focused only on what I'd told myself I "needed" to do. I had to find myself. I'm not too sure what that meant, but I just had to do it.
