Archive.The Future.Sign.Diaryland

Sunday, May. 19, 2002

If Only We Were All Insensitive

Shyness is stupid, annoying and useless. It is a burden that crushes, bashes, massacres and any other bad thing you can think of. When you really want to do something for or to someone and you just freeze and you can't. That's terrible.

When you just want to... do... something... and you can't. You can't because you're so worried of what the other person might do or say or show. You're worried that they'll push you away or look at you like you were a total stranger, or even laugh in your face. You're worried that that'll be the last thing you'll ever know or see about each other.

Then it all seems awkward. You want to do something! Anything! But it's too late and you can't. The opportunity is gone and all that's left is a bitter emptiness that eats at the inside of your stomach. It feels just like normal hunger, the kind of hunger you feel for food, but you know very well that that's not what it's for.

There's nothing you can do, but watch and wait and wonder if this was truly a mistake or you'll get a second chance or it wouldn't have been worse off if you did what you wanted to do.

Then there are those times that you just know that it's the right thing to do and then you just can't bring yourself to do it either. Even though you for one hundred percent that it is truly the best and only thing you can do. Yet, you still can't do it.

Also, what if it's all a secret. You want to tell someone, but you can't do that either. You can't do the thing you wanted to do so badly and you can't tell anyone about it either. The only one who knows is you and maybe that other person. That other person who's excuse to leave you without conversation is; 'I have to try on my wet suit.'

I feel like crawling under a rock and staying there for a while. Or I wish I could go back through time and re-think and re-do everything and make it all right. Get rid of all those people in the theater, sit on the right of... the person. Then I also wish I could run who knows how many kilometers to h-the person's house, and do whatever I had wanted to do. Or even have hi-the person... come over here right away so I could do what I wanted to do. Of course the chances of that happening are definately zero so all I can do now is hope that I didn't make a total fool of myself when I went to see Unfaithful with Andrew.

That's right Liat. Andrew. Not yours. Mine. Or, hopefully mine. I don't even know what I'm talking about and you're not even supposed to know what I'm talking about, but I have to tell you. I want to tell you. Now all you have to do is keep this information at the back of your mind and only bring it into context when you and I are alone somewhere.

At least I feel a little bit better now.

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