Excerpts

Conversation Draft – 1

“It’s a weird thing, isn’t it: to meet a girl like that, under those circumstances and still be so lonely as to have the naiveté to think any more could’ve came from it. Even now, I feel so full of longing that I dream up these realities in my head, you know, where she comes back to me. Sometimes it’s like I don’t even need her to have a reason; I just need to see her, under any circumstances. It’s just unfortunate that they had to be under those.”

“Come on now, just a girl, plenty of others; don’t need all this feelings after the fact. And a short fact of that; you hadn’t know her for more than a couple months, right?”

“Yeah. Except, I feel like I know more outside of her presence than I do when in it. I’m always too clouded by trying to be perfect for her that I generally don’t acknowledge my own emotions during, and … uh, now when I catch her scent or feel some texture, the sentimentality brings me right back to that place where, if it hadn’t had entered, there’d be nothing to worry over, only I did, and you become used to things: I want more while being forced to learn to accept that there will never be more; nothing’s left. It’s just so easy to return to those memories, because while they cause pain like I’ve never felt before, they are the only source I have for seeing, imaging her again in my life; the most precious thing that ever did make it’s way into my life. And now it’s gone, and I don’t know what to do, or what I want; there’s no hope or aspiration I can use to distract my head away from going to that place where things were so much better. I ask myself constantly: what can I do? Ask no question, you’ll hear no lies. The only answers coming to me feel like they’re well intentioned, but feel also like artificial ideas to just bring me out of it for a while so I can forget how hurt I really am.”

“You’re not giving yourself any outs.”

“Time and suffering and another girl; not necessarily in that order. No, making sense out of this, if I could convince myself to be happy in this situation, I’d know it would be false. There’s a place for depression: a man doesn’t run away, doesn’t look for the cure; a man experiences what he needs to. That’s confronting, that’s courage. I just regret … putting myself in the position of this wave. I don’t know whether it was worth it or not.”

“Well, you wouldn’t experience this needlessly: it was worth it.”

“But now the fun part is over, and I’m trying to cheat the parallel to the deal I signed when falling in love with her. It no longer has a reason; no incentive to feel this. What kills me all the more is that I’m nothing to that girl; nothing more than a couple anecdotal sentences, poking fun at my eccentricities. All my suppressed pain for that girl is now reduced to banter; I exist outside myself only as a joke.”

“Not to me. Not to her, surely not.”

“I get paranoid; like I can hear her voice, and her friend’s voices, and her family, future boyfriend: I hear them all translating me into this representation of what not to be. I don’t feel like the star, the envy of people. I feel I’ve lost what made me valuable to myself, like I’m no longer attractive in people’s eyes.”

“No. Just not to yourself. You’re not in an attractive, in-demand person or rather state of mind to yourself. Now you know how others feel when they envy you. Longing to be something else, anything that would have them tic like you tic; tic like someone else tics. Envy is running away from yourself; denying who you are.”

“Then I won’t. But I can’t stop my mind from lingering in all those moments—some I changed, actually I always reedit; correct and imagine from that an occurrence so flawless it couldn’t not be realistic, surely. I had this one—I even wrote it out—of the night I last saw her: we had just came back from our second official date, though I’d seen a lot outside of that, and I, instead of missing my opportunity to kiss her, do the same, but this time go back. I saw myself knocking on her door, to which her father answered. I gave him some false alibi as to why I should return:

‘She left something in my truck; I’m unfortunately without the temperament to have it stay.’ ’Leave it with me, I’ll get it to her.’ ’You’re quite good to do that, sir, but perhaps you’re astute enough to notice things beyond their initial structure, specifically, it would seem your daughter, like myself, is perplexed in situations that demand fast action, which our farewell this evening was, indubitably. To avoid being cryptic, I let my nerves get the better of me and lost my chance to kiss her. At my age, surely you’ll understand the disposition of longing. To set your mind at rest, I assure you that my motivations don’t extend far past that; to be well heard, that is in no way a placation.’ ’Respectfully.’ ’It is also a pleasure to meet: funny to leave that till now.’ ’Indeed, but won’t you come in.’

“Something to that regard, at which point I’d go in, to her room, and continue with what I wish didn’t frighten me. What ails me to the point where I can’t sleep nights.”

 

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