Venting: Chapter 4

I’m tempted to pick up the phone and tell them that I’m not coming in to work today. But I can’t chicken out. I can’t allow myself to go down that road again. You would’ve thought I’d learned my lesson last semester.

But apparently I haven’t. I want to call in sick. I want someone to feel sorry for me. I need someone to hold me tight and tell me that everything will be all right. I need someone to hold me and kiss me and make it all right. And it can’t be my own family, because they’ve loved me all my life, and I need someone to objectively love me, not because they’ve known me all along and are obliged to love me because of some ties, but because they’ve seen past the glasses and the bad shave and the bad skin and the gnome, and seen me, the REAL ME, the person struggling within. And I need someone who I can hold, and who I can love, because I don’t want to live alone forever. I know I don’t get along with most people, and I know I scare away the few who I can get along with, and without meaning to, I’ve alienated myself from everyone, but I just need a single person that I can get on with.
Now, what’s so special about M? Why her, out of all the people I’ve met? She isn’t the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, she’s slightly round, she has a speech impediment, she has scars all over her, and she even has a tattoo on the back of her neck. And, she obviously wants nothing to do with me. But something just happens to me every time she walks by. I have to stop myself from staring, from devouring her with my eyes. It’s a struggle to act nonchalantly when I’m around her, and I hope no one’s noticed. She just grows in my mind, until there isn’t room for another thought inside my head. I think it’s an illness, I’m sure of it. I know I’ve felt this way about all the other girls in my life, and this is no different. I think I just fixate on people, and I just pretend it’s love. I am so sick, my Lord, and I wish that You would either lock me up, or kill me. Or at the very least, make me not exist.
I don’t want to screw her, or anything, I just want to hold her and love her, that’s all. But that’s how it starts, isn’t it? It begins with a caress, and then, all hell breaks loose. She’ll say no, but I won’t stop. She’ll start screaming, and I’ll try to shut her up. Darkness shall descend upon us all, and shadows shall consume us. Flames shall leap forth, and all that will be left are ashes.
What an excellent way I have with words. I am impressed, I must confess. And as sarcastic as this may sound, it is true. I do have a great way with words. I always have. It’s when I try to put them in a coherent order that they sound forced and confused.