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You are my darkest insecurity
It was the most simple of movements that took my breath away. I don’t say this to be romantic. I say this because its how I feel. I don’t know if it was because this weather or because of my mental state, but it hit me with the intensity of the sun. Those few words, a gentle barely there touch, and a brush of your hair is all it took to come to the realization that I never hated you to begin with. I tried to protect myself from you and how I feel about you when I see you.
This is the truth.
This is the reason I linger on your picture and why I still cant hate you enough to not smile at your jokes or to not befriend your friends.
I was in the way, and with how pathetic I feel around you it didn’t seem like an out of place situation. I ignore you, like some days when my fingers are lingering inches away from your back and I try to settle my panic so I would just talk to you. This is how you make me feel anytime I see your face, or hear your voice, or even hear your name. My frozen fingers retreat letting the terrified insecure girl inside win, again.
Do you feel anything at all when I speak to you? When I try my hardest to steady my voice before I talk to you, can you tell? Can you sense that I’ve been reciting saying hello to you over and over again in my head to seem normal? Do you ever wonder if I remember you or if I still hate you for what happened?
I wonder if you wonder these things about me. I hold my breath praying that you do, even just sometimes.
I was in your way. I didn’t even notice you were talking to me until you were right behind me with your hand on the small of my back, making sure I didn’t step backwards. You were so close and I couldn’t see you, I couldn’t study your expression. I couldn’t see what you might possibly be thinking from your facial expression.
Then, in the rush of it all you were walking away and your hair brushed me. Just like that it all hit me again. I miss your hair. I miss when you thought I was clever enough to talk to, or funny enough to be friends with, or pretty enough to hold hands with.
Sometimes I think you know I still think about you or maybe you noticed how tense I get when you laugh at a joke. But I doubt your eyes are on me. These feelings make me shrivel up into an insecure worthless girl who would do anything for some control over her life or control over how you make me feel. Sometimes my insecurities even go so far to just name off all the things you hated about me and how I could change them.
Can you feel the control you have over me? Can you feel my gaze on you? I feel like you know. Like you avoid my eyes.
But how could you possibly know? The only person who knows I still think about you, is me. Everyone else listens to me talk about my hatred for you. Still I see how you look and how you respond to me. I know that you know my deepest secret, that I don’t hate you, in fact; I long for you to want me.
If I had one wish and was to spend it selfishly I would wish for you to have no memory of me. I know if we were to meet again with blank minds and no knowledge of each other that we would be friends. Good friends at that.
But I don’t have one wish and we will never be friends.
I still hold you to be my deepest darkest secret, my biggest insecurity... And we don’t even talk.