Have you ever looked at the person lying down next to you before asking yourself ‘what am I doing? No, really. What in the fresh fuck am I doing? Am I really permitting myself another permanent chipping of my ego, all because I need a short term desire fulfilled?’ How often have you had those moments because I’m having one right now. One where I’m looking down to the right of me and thinking to myself … this strange boy. What is he doing here? What am I doing here with him? Why do I keep letting him back into my life? I’m terrified I’m using him to pursue another who has a predominant part of my thoughts attached to him, but what’s more terrifying is the thought that I may actually want to be with him, only to have him emotionally scar me as the few before him. Have you ever lay in bed wondering if the person sleeping peacefully next to you ever wants to be there? I feel that way about him often. This lack of attraction on the other party’s end… is it true? Is it my paranoia? Is it one of those things that I should go with my instincts on? It’s one of those situations where it feels like everything is more interesting than I am.
What am I doing here? I don’t like that I’m this attracted to him. You know that feeling I’m talking about, right? That one where you’re convinced it’s entirely one-sided. I don’t need him… God knows there are others who would treat me exactly as I expect to be treated. Yet, I begrudgingly admit, though meeting him was the result of healing while walking away from something toxic, it is now him I want. Something about the twisted cold indifference when I pay attention to him vs. the genuine, almost child-like energy he dotes on me when I don’t is what I shouldn’t be (for the obvious reasons listed above), but am devastatingly attracted to. It doesn’t help that he’s just about the most fascinating person I’ve met yet (aside from yours truly, of course) … all these different personalities and characters he reveals – almost like peeling an onion’s layers – are all individually mesmerizing to me. Watching him is like looking at The Starry Night, except I can trace my fingers delicately (and sometimes not so much) across every stroke so intricately graced over that canvas… but there’s the added insecurity of feeling like he doesn’t look at me the way I want him to. If I do ever catch him looking at me, it’s while I’m glancing up from doing something extremely engaging and he turns away so quickly, it makes me feel almost – and keep in mind I say almost – unpretty. I don’t know what I thought I’d get out of a romantic stint with a 21 yr-old, especially when I’ve always been so much more mature for my age, so it’s troubling to know that I intrinsically care about this boy so much, I’m willing to overlook common sense. Why am I here? Why am I exactly where I told myself I wouldn’t be? What is he doing here? What am I doing here with him? And why, despite after knowing all of this, can’t I just turn him away?*
*NOTE: This was written the first three weeks I had met Mr. Unsure… now, four and something months into it, I can’t say it’s been an easy ride, but he’s still here, and I’m still here with him.