Tonight I'm curled up in my bed, listening to melancholy love songs. I've not yet changed out of the days clothes into something warm and soft, so my legs are hidden under a comforter as familiar to my eyes as my own childhood, but I don't really mind. Not right now. Not when I'm sitting here trying to shape my words into something that expresses this feeling I have inside me. Besides, the chill always makes everything so much sharper. So much more real.
Trying to explain it is difficult, but it's this throbbing in my chest that I have no name for. It hurts sometimes, if I drop my guard. Other times I just close my eyes and shut it out. Pretend that nothing matters besides that very moment. Not the stares. Not the whispered comments. Not the fact I know that the feeling is temporary, because you are. Temporary is all I've really had, after all.
And I've always been foolish, in growing fond of things I can't keep.
Its not so much that I think the image of myself foolish, just the knowing all along. There are no pretenses here. Nothing for me to hide behind and say that I didn't know of what I was doing. But I like to pretend sometimes, and when you've presented me with the perfect opportunity, how is a girl to resist?
You see, I like to pretend when I can, because I fear that pretending is all I'll ever have. I've never once met someone who's been fully comfortable with me and everything I stand for. And part of me never thinks I will. Not really.
And so I want to write something so wholly beautiful that it calls to the heart of people. I want them to be able to see the 'Me' behind the words. To see me. Even when I am hiding.
And I want them to realize that each word of every sentence took my heart and soul and sweat and tears to put onto the page. Realize that it took every ounce of courage I possess to give them to you.
To let you see them. Even now, As I am sitting here giving this to you, I am shaking. Because now you'll know. And there's no turning back.
Because I'm afraid that you'll see the 'you' in my words too. That you'll hear me, and know I'm talking to you. About you. For you. And yet, I want to let you see them. Because I want someone to read those words and realize that I, too, am beautiful. Even if that beauty is only rubbed off of that which I create.
And maybe It's a naïve wish, but I want someone to see me as beautiful. To fall in love with me, and my words. I want someone to see me, and to just know that I can create something with such splendor that it wraps around your heart as it's beating and make you fight to make it to the end.
If only you would stop for a moment, and ask to see it. But then, who would see that in me? Who would understand that I have that firestorm raging behind my eyes, even though I seem so very calm. No one really has before. And I don't blame them.
I want someone to understand, though, why I have to write what I do. Even though I walk away from the words on the page with tears in my eyes. With rage in my heart. With screams ripping from my throat, because they burn as they leave my fingertips.
Because the eternal struggle is that the words are never good enough, even though they are amazing. I could do better. I know I could, If you would just give me another chance.
But no one would ever know this. No one has ever bothered to try. We all know why.
And so, I wish someone could look past what I look like. Past the glasses. The height. The tilt of my jaw. Past all of it. To me. I want to beg the world to see through the fact that I am so awkward I can barely stand myself sometimes; I am graceful in my speech but stumbling in my steps.
I'm hardly anyone's ideal.
Hardly anyone's perfection.
But I need someone to realize that I can be so much more than you see, if given the chance. I wish someone would fall in love with me. But then, everyone wishes for love. At least a little bit. It is less common for it to actually be found.
Maybe that's why I like writing so very much.
I get to pretend for a bit. And my characters don't break my heart with their every action.