Maybe I should have answered him that day. With the simpliest truth, as if it was nothing big, as if it was nothing new, afterall, it isn’t.
Maybe it’s the usual stupid backfire of my attitude, nobody really understands fully what they mean to me. Less than anybody, probably, him.
I know he’s not stupid and he got it somehow. Still, in some remote corner of his mind, this isn’t enough or it doesn’t matter enough.
His eyes always wander off to some weirdass dumb piece of shit anyway. I really don’t get it, even if I try, how can someone desire to waste themselves behind the dazzling fakeass aura of that really not impressive person.
As if they really were something more, as if they really were something worth it. Where? When, how…
Such a strikingly beautiful person, with that hell of a personality. After that plainass nobody. What the hell! It feels like one of these 90s movies where the wonderful and smart pretty girl tends to try and date the popular jerkass.
And what sense would it make to tell him, now. It’s the same old story, this ISN’T a 90’s movie and I’m not going to be the nerd who snatches the pretty girl away.
What could I give him anyway? I have only the purest and most rejected of my feelings to offer. Then there’s an hell of a weird life with another man involved and a lot of complicated stupid problems and reality checks to face. Not really the best of the prizes someone could want.
Why should I state the obvious one more time, definitely, fully, without any chances to run back? It would make absolutely not sense.
Besides, I don’t want to hear that answer anymore. I know he would repeat that, that was his answer, and I had to get over it. I passed a week crying and vomiting like an arorexic stupid teen, and no thanks, I don’t want to repeat that.
I received answers in my life like “are you kidding? You’re horrible, go away!” and still they felt better than what he said. At least it was a kind of rejection stupid shallow asses could state, I never really used to mind the fact I’m not “beautiful” for standard minds.
Yet his rejection went into my very roots, made me feel like he’d never like me as a whole person. ‘Cause the thing he cannot cope with most is what I AM, not what I look like.
So why to even bother?
Never will have any chances. Never ever. I already am all I can be for him.