No one said anything about falling in love.

Not that anyone really would say something to me. I mean, people don’t normally talk to me. Why would they? I’m pretty sure I’m one step above invisible. They see me, I’m a body sitting in that chair, leaning against that wall, standing at the end of that line, but they don’t see ME.

And then you said something that really changed my perspective.

You said I acted as though I were “Holier than Thou.” I’m really not. At least I don’t feel like that. I never glared at you. Really. I glared at the guy next to you, the one who wouldn’t shut up. But you never shut up either. You always act as if you are better than everyone, as if your presence makes the world go ‘round. I hate you. What I can’t believe is that I was so honest with you and told you that I despised your very being. Maybe not that extreme, but you get the point.

But what really got me was that you actually seemed familiar with my attitude as if you’d actually noticed me. I never thought someone would look as closely to see that.

But suddenly, that’s not what I want you to see. Didn’t you see me smiling yesterday? I was sitting right in front of you. You seemed to notice that. But didn’t you notice my smile? Wasn’t I friendly enough? Or was I just as snobbish? And why should I care? Why do I suddenly want you to continue noticing me?

I keep thinking about you and that scares me. I think about you with amusement, about your opinion of me. For some reason I want to improve on you, yet in our last conversation you said that you only tolerated talking to me. And yet you continue to talk to me. I’m not going to question why. I ask a lot of questions already… You seem to contradict yourself a lot. Yes, you are highly amusing, especially your tolerance of me. Maybe this is how Mr. Darcy felt. I really should read that book… Now I’m rambling…

I’ve wanted to be noticed before, I’ve wanted someone to see me for what I am and not be frightened away by my overlord attitude and my unhealthy work ethic. I’m a perfectionist and yet my opinion of myself is so low. I’ll never feel good enough for anyone. I’ll never be able to trust anyone either. But that’s another story. A long one. It’d bore you…

I have a hard time looking directly at people for a long period of time. I’ve wanted to look directly at you, just to see what you really are. You always act as if you’re hot s***. As if you are the world and we are but undeserving organisms who live only to serve your ego. You brag about your abilities and yet you have not proven yourself beyond the safety of our hick town. Nothing you say can be reinforced. I hate bragging, so I never do it. When I win something, I only tell one person. And they usually brag for me. But when you brag, everyone has high expectations of you and meeting someone’s expectations is depressing. So why do you brag? Do you have a superiority complex? I pity you.

Also, conversations are hard for me. I can IM well since I can think cohesively, and yet I can’t talk clearly. Plus I sometimes have nothing to say. Anyway, we aren’t supposed to talk. It’s a class. We’re supposed to be silent, obeying, and listening. You said you have a hard time with authority. So do I. I hate when people think they know something and try to tell you how to do it. And all the while, you know they are wrong. Yet you can’t say anything because that’s the law of life. Obey, and you get a pat on the back. Go against the rules, and you are punished. I read about this kind of thing in psychology. It’s like some sort of conditioning thing. I wish I could be more articulate about it, but I’m really tired and my brain is whirring with thoughts I need to write down.

I hate you. A lot. And yet I don’t. I feel like I understand you, yet you’re still a mystery. I want you to notice me, yet the fact that you somewhat do scares me. I want you to know me, but trust is my deepest issue. Maybe I’m a contradiction, too.

And yet after all of this, why do I think about you so often? It’s always some sort of ridiculous fantasy. I see you taking me in your arms like in some old romantic movie, running your long fingers through my hair, looking down into my eyes. Some people say opposites attract. But I feel like we’re hardly opposite. We just don’t understand each other. I know I want to understand. And I really hope you do, too, because I want you to figure out that there’s more to me than just a face you see everyday scowling at the guy next to you. I want you to figure out that my ego is not as large as you suppose. I want you to realize that we’re both the same and only our habits differ.

I want you to figure out that I’m something worth looking at.