What I Talk About When I Talk About Love (Raymond Carver anybody?)
It sucks.
The first time I realized I might have been slightly defect in this field is when I started middle school. I was chubby, had frizzy hair, and wore glasses. By the time I hit eighth grade, I was just about a pile of skinny limbs with braces, and looking back, for some reason a middle part seemed to just show up on my hair (why? I have no clue. It was an accident I assure you). Going from one end of the awkward spectrum to the other didn't really serve me right during my preteen years, so I really didn't get along with most of the population. I even had the chance to be friends with the popular girls, but turned it down since I didn't like the way they acted (Who shoplifts at the Disney store? Or drinks vodka when their twelve?). After I passed up the girly girls, I decided to become friends with people who I actually liked. My friends back then made me laugh. We knew how to have a good time, despite getting looks from almost everyone. We were the weirdos, and you know what, for the first time in my life, I was okay with being a weirdo. What does this have to do with love? Well, it almost created a cocktail for disaster. It made me completely comfortable on how I turned out, while being so insecure of how I looked. It was almost a contradiction, and I don't know why I'm talking in past tense, because I still feel pretty much the same exact way. I am the contradiction. I believe in true love, but can't seem to grasp the concept of trying. I act like a total dude most of the time, but then wonder why some guys can't see me in the other way. I joke around and flirt for fun, and wonder why I have ever creep in a five mile radius asking me out. I really make no sense, and I know where it comes from. Maybe I will never be able to rid myself of my quirky personality, that screws me over eleven times out of ten, but that is okay. You know what I can get rid of? Looking in a mirror, and seeing someone who is unlovable. This is incredibly sappy of me, but I know someone is out there for me. Someone who will erase all of the times I have been hurt, or felt like it couldn't be for someone like me. Maybe I know him, and we both just don't know it yet. Most likely I don't know him, and he is just another stranger right now. That is the beauty of this, because throughout all of my shit luck already, and all the shit luck I have yet to experience, I know it can and will happen. And for right now? I'm okay with just being my bad self, and getting my feet on the ground. All good things come to those who wait...Clarice. Sorry, I was watching Silence of the Lambs, and Hannibal Lector is arguably the best villain of all time. Keep that in mind everyone.
That's it for now.
The first time I realized I might have been slightly defect in this field is when I started middle school. I was chubby, had frizzy hair, and wore glasses. By the time I hit eighth grade, I was just about a pile of skinny limbs with braces, and looking back, for some reason a middle part seemed to just show up on my hair (why? I have no clue. It was an accident I assure you). Going from one end of the awkward spectrum to the other didn't really serve me right during my preteen years, so I really didn't get along with most of the population. I even had the chance to be friends with the popular girls, but turned it down since I didn't like the way they acted (Who shoplifts at the Disney store? Or drinks vodka when their twelve?). After I passed up the girly girls, I decided to become friends with people who I actually liked. My friends back then made me laugh. We knew how to have a good time, despite getting looks from almost everyone. We were the weirdos, and you know what, for the first time in my life, I was okay with being a weirdo. What does this have to do with love? Well, it almost created a cocktail for disaster. It made me completely comfortable on how I turned out, while being so insecure of how I looked. It was almost a contradiction, and I don't know why I'm talking in past tense, because I still feel pretty much the same exact way. I am the contradiction. I believe in true love, but can't seem to grasp the concept of trying. I act like a total dude most of the time, but then wonder why some guys can't see me in the other way. I joke around and flirt for fun, and wonder why I have ever creep in a five mile radius asking me out. I really make no sense, and I know where it comes from. Maybe I will never be able to rid myself of my quirky personality, that screws me over eleven times out of ten, but that is okay. You know what I can get rid of? Looking in a mirror, and seeing someone who is unlovable. This is incredibly sappy of me, but I know someone is out there for me. Someone who will erase all of the times I have been hurt, or felt like it couldn't be for someone like me. Maybe I know him, and we both just don't know it yet. Most likely I don't know him, and he is just another stranger right now. That is the beauty of this, because throughout all of my shit luck already, and all the shit luck I have yet to experience, I know it can and will happen. And for right now? I'm okay with just being my bad self, and getting my feet on the ground. All good things come to those who wait...Clarice. Sorry, I was watching Silence of the Lambs, and Hannibal Lector is arguably the best villain of all time. Keep that in mind everyone.
That's it for now.
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