Here's the Thing (Part 3)
As it turns out, I think that you think that I'm boring. Or you've met someone and want to be cautious and not lead me on.
In the first case, that really sucks. I think I am easily riled up, and occasionally irrational and impulsive, and selfish, and issue-riddled, all of which are very very annoying and all of which are great reasons to dislike me. But boring would be a new one.
In the second case, that's fucking awesome. Both that you met someone and that you're being cautious to not lead me on.
The point, really, is that I saw the pictures you uploaded on Facebook. And your smile, lopsided as it is, makes me smile a little. And that's more than I can say for most things in the last few years.
The point, also, is that there's nothing to lead me on to. So, really, just not reading into my messages and considering them a Hello from a/an friend/acquaintance would be just perfect.
And I'm just saying, being fully aware that I've met you all of maybe six times, that smile of yours, lopsided as it is, is quite the charmer. That quiet, calm voice of yours, averse to any real variation in decibel level, is quite the captivator. And here's also the thing: I am not easily charmed and I am not easily captivated.
There is a very fine line remaining between me recognizing your charm and captivation and me realizing my crassness and abrasiveness. I think it'd be better if I didn't cross that line.
So here's the thing: I wish the games would stop. I wish I could say this to you. I wish you would understand. I wish you would understand that awkwardness is not part of this equation, because there is nothing to be awkward about. I wish you would understand that you deserve the best, and even if you've only found better for now, you're on the right track. I wish you would think that you and I could be friends.
Aside: [[[ The disjointedness of this post should give you an idea of how intoxicated I need to be to find the words to say anything at all.
Words are where it all begins and ends. For the feelings in my flawed heart and all the thoughts in my tiny brain, I always thought words would be a sort of savior, preserving the meaninglessness they all defined. I am starting to realize even words fall short. Or, I should clarify, my words. [See the Aside in Here's the Thing [Part 1].
And if I don't have words, I don't have diddly squat. I mean I have some forsaken and some pretty true friends, a cute little puppy and a Tolstoy-ish family, but I have diddly squat. ]]]
So, at (almost) the end of it all, I wish you'd reply and treat me like any other human being you had no additional (naked) knowledge of. Because for some reason, I think you'd think more of me if you knew less of me. I am apologetic for ever letting you know or see more. I am a disappointment in those respects, I am well aware.
But here's the real thing: I think I like you. And it's really rather okay if you don't like me back. It would suck if you think I'm boring, but even so, I'd prefer if you told me. I'd find a particularly graceless way of backing off that would forever leave me entrenched in your memory as the type of person to avoid by miles for the rest of your life. At least you'd remember me for some reason.