We don’t see it. We really don’t; me and the rest of the world. We’re completely oblivious to it. Sure, you see it. You live with it every single day. How could you not notice it? You see all the little things. So, of course, it sticks out to you, and the nail that sticks up gets hammered down. It’s only logical. You can’t let that little imperfection flourish; you’d have to see it every single day.
But you don’t see it. You don’t see how delightful you are. You don’t see all the wonderful and admirable things that we see. You can’t see the perfection that we do.
And that is the greatest shame of all.
I don’t know if you just didn’t get the memo or not. I can only assume that you were completely oblivious throughout the entire process. See here, She is adorable, smart, funny, and (this is the thing you really NEED) longsuffering. I understand the secrecy and the general resistance to anything resembling a relationship. It’s difficult and you’d have to actually make a stand. The worst part is that you’d have to think about losing Her. Limbo seems comfortable. But you’re not in limbo; you’re in purgatory. Like the man said, nut up or shut up.
Actually, no. No shutting up. Nut the fuck up. She’s a great girl, and you seem like a halfway decent guy. You can be worth everything She has to give. You COULD be Her Knight in Shining Armor. You don’t have to charm Her. You don’t have to woo Her. You’ve already done that. You’ve lost Her in the follow-through. The easy part is where you’ve failed.
You need ten seconds of insane courage. You’ve only got thirty seconds before some other Romeo snatches her up. You’ve only got thirty seconds until you get to watch Her happily ever after, instead of YOUR happily ever after.
I remember. I remember what your hair smells like when I hold you close. I remember the color of your eyes when you gaze into mine. I remember the precise cadence of your laugh. I remember the exact taste of your lips when I kiss them. I remember just how your skin feels under my caress.
I swear that I remember these things; in spite of the eternity since I saw you last. I swear that nothing has escaped the steel trap of my memory.
We both know that I’m lying.
I’ve been living in you shadow. I hate it, and I’ve hated you for it. You’ve puffed up your reputation. This whole time, I’ve been slaving away in an effort to earn my keep. I’ve just been trying to prove that I belong, that I’m every inch the hero that you claim to be. Now, I suddenly find out that it’s all a lie. You aren’t half of what you’ve always claimed. All this slaving has been in vain. If you called yourself my equal, I wouldn’t be so mad. You just had to go and call yourself my better. I want to put you in your place, but you’re my friend. I can’t quite bring myself to do it, and I hate us both for it.
I don’t have the right pedigree. I’m not rich enough. I’m not charming. I don’t have suave lines for every occasion. I am not a knight in shining armor. I can’t offer you a storybook ending.
I forget significant dates. I miss important details. I say the wrong things. I laugh at the inappropriate jokes. I generally make a mockery of decency.
So it amazes me that you can still love me after all of that.
You don’t get it, and I’m glad for that. You don’t know where we’ve been; what we’ve felt. You don’t really understand what it means to truly hate yourself. You don’t know what it means to want to end it all. You’ve never seen your own death as morally justifiable. IT isn’t just an end to your suffering. It would take you out of the world, and wouldn’t that atone for so many great sins? It isn’t selfish. It’s a gift. The greatest gift you could give everyone else is your absence. That’s where we’ve been; that’s what we’ve felt.
If you’re looking for a reason to live, send me a message and I’ll give the best reply I can. Be patient, I suck at checking tumblr.
P.S. The spell check on Tumblr lists “Tumblr” and “tumblr” as misspelled, that is how meta the self loathing of this post has become. Tumblr now hates itself.
P.P.S. Living gets better.