  The girl says I intrigue her. She holds my hands in hers, clasping it tightly knowing that I might jerk away at any second. At any time, my walls may come haltingly up again. Her eyes stare deep into mine. Her big round American blue eyes, she pierces me with her feelings, her deep hidden thought and emotions. She is a person of action, not words yet everything she has to say is brain candy.
Intelligent, brilliant, beautiful. She is breathtaking... She holds me close again, and we lie down, covered up, bunched together in the cold and look at the stars. Clear, cold, cold, night.every asteroid is burning so brightly, moonlight encases us into a fairy tale, an enchanted evening. --- We have that relationship conversation again. He wants a special place in my life, a piece of my heart, a window into my soul. I laugh and tell him hes silly, stupid.
I am not a girl he wants to love, I am not a girl thats capable of loving or being loved, but it doesnt mean that I dont enjoy it either. Hes caring, he makes me dinner and walks with me. Nature looks so much more tantalizing through his eyes, life seems so much more interesting with him around. Larger than life, more vibrant, more colorful, just bigger.better. His mind attracts me the most, nevernmind that he is quite aesthetically pleasing too. Yummy.
My lips have never touched his though. Never really lead him on, I hope. If anything, just made it clearer and clearer boundaries. Invisible lines; but you can still feel the tension. Things are out between us, but he slowly chisels off his way into the inside. I push him away ferventently, continuously.
Ask Jared, hell tell you why you dont want to know me. See me. Love me. Hell tell you why its bad. So we talk, laugh a while. Silently waiting, silently wanting.
Emptiness filling and caving in more, Afraid. ---- Competitors. Behind, at the back of my mind, I wonder if its all just a game. Predator, Hunter, Pawn, Bait. They come and go in succession. Each needing to be filled, each wanting to be loved.
Outgoing, shy, arrogant, giving, caring, loud, flirtatious, quiet, silly, funny, intelligent, talented. Brewing, melting, cascading pot of interests. A plethora of personalities. One to another to the next and a day, some are in classes, some are random, some are friends of a friends of a friends. Some go dancing with me, some play video games, watch movies, work out and some, just dinner and parties. Sheep.
Blind deceived sheep. Oblivious to the being within, they fall into the image. The life. The show she puts on, the layers she brushes on, the glittery wrapping paper and the expensive bow for the Dollar General gift. --- The old man. The best friends.
The safe people that see her at night, when she is heaving and sobbing, the ones that put their hands on her heart and stop the blood from gushing. The ones that see her when shes weak and lends her their strength a while. The ones that understand and help her through another night, carries her through another day. The ones she goes to when she needs to feel special, when she needs to know that at least one person on earth knows who she is within inside. When she cant pretend anymore, when she is tired of being the happy, laughy, giggly person. When she is breaking.
Hurting. --- The boy that still remains so hugely a part of her life. Suppressing thoughts and feelings even if she still cares; life moves on, let go damnit. Untouchable. Other side. Disconnected.
Broken up. --- The words that come flowing out of her mouth, the thoughts that leap onto paper and castrate themselves. The touchy-feely emotions she pens out daily in regression, in anger, in depression, in ecstasy. They think she is manic-depressive. All the extremes, the highs and lows. As if a solitary diagnosis explains everything, why she feels like shes failing and falling, the eating disorder, the insecurities, the relationships.
Growing up too soon in a large, tormenting, cruel world. The flip side of being sensitive, she is an actress. Vivid, poignant, dramatic. She escalates and drives a character through, she gets deep within and feels it from the core. She fits right into the theater group, all weird, all different yet she disguises and weaves her way too into the musicians, and the painters. The cheerleaders, and the nerds, the geeks and the jokers.
The bums and the lost. She feels, she is sensitive, she chooses pain over numbness, she chooses creativity over nothingness, she chooses extremes over the in betweens. She chooses to be driven instead of just being content, instead of losing dreams and aspirations. They say people choose their own poison and that my life is a testament. Eighteen years of existence, so much and nothing to testify for. So much left to live for.
Dream for. So much more that I can be and I can try. So many decisions left to make and paths yet to take. Will she make it? Will she crumble? Will she smile with the little tiara on her head?
Time, the essence, as always will tell; I havent turned out yet. urlLink "Maybe falling back on memories isn't such a bad thing anyway. Maybe clinging onto a past that has long forgotten itself isn't as selfish as I had once thought. " 
