We Should See Other Blogs

I will spill. Yes, it still hurts to think about you. I strangely still care what you think of me, though so much time has passed: I hope this will pass with more time. I am confident it will.

It’s odd how people appeal to me as if I’m a good person. Where do you get this idea? You should instead appeal to my baser instincts. They’re much more likely to respond.

It’s odder yet how we build images of ourselves as we’d like to be seen, isn’t it? Anyone honestly looking can find theirs. I am strong; I am confident. No, I am scared; I am terrified by the world.

There are words I say to evoke the appropriate reactions. Falsehood, yes. There are things I do to make things easier. But I am no knight in armor. But in the end these are not games, nor am I moving pieces to attack or counter-attack. It is what it is. Maybe it’s bullshit.

I am becoming who I am. It bothers me. I am falling in love slowly. It frightens me half to death. I have told you everything inside of me and you still think yourself the worst of us two. Different you this time. But I am letting the fear pass through me and I think you should too. There’s no compelling reason. I will simply give you what I have never given anyone before. It isn’t much. It’s just all of me.

Looking around my apartment I fail to see a trophy. Nothing won. I feel like a stranger these days, to myself, and to my supposed friends. I am moving soon to a new place to match what’s inside of me, so I can be a stranger in a strange land.