Welcome to the Multi-Complex
No one can say I'm not trying. My mother would be proud. She always said to be extra nice to people who snub you, so they would see what a great person you are.
Well, I'm not so sure what a great person I am, but I am trying to be extra nice. This girl doesn't like me; I don't know why. I've never done anything to her. I've been jealous, but I've never done anything. I don't think it's all that outrageous to be jealous of your ex's beautiful quirky new best friend. Even if they really are just friends. Even if they study together when he and I never did.
But I've never been bad to her. I've gone out of my way to smile and wave when I really don't feel like it. So she's talking to us today and I realize that she's much like a friend of mine back home and it makes me feel kind of weird. But it also makes something hateful go away inside me. It also makes me miss my friend, even though she draws quick judgements, just like this quirky girl who just blew in from god knows where.
He leaves, I stay. I invite her to sit with me. I forgot to prepare myself for the barrage of words that would spring forth from her skinny body, but I'm trying to manage. She moves from subject to subject with dizzying force and speed. There's no turning back with her. But she's funny and weird and talking so fast I can barely keep up.
We stand up for a coffee house version of musical chairs, but without the mad rush to sit down before anyone else. She is telling me something, as if it all has to get out of her mouth in 10 seconds or less. She is standing inside my bubble, my personal space, and I let her, because I don't want her to think I'm rude if I step back. I'm trying. Maybe she is too.
We re-situate and re-seat. She brings me candy from her convenience store raid. It feels like a schoolgirl peace pipe, with the promise of bubble gum at the center. Perhaps we're both trying. And not for each other. For this other, this man. The one between us who doesn't want us to fight. It seems so convoluted. She has some problem with me, and I can't tell why. I'd rather not speculate. She's a mysterious character, mostly because of the rare sightings and mixed feelings.
I'm complex; she's complex. He's complex too.
Well, I'm not so sure what a great person I am, but I am trying to be extra nice. This girl doesn't like me; I don't know why. I've never done anything to her. I've been jealous, but I've never done anything. I don't think it's all that outrageous to be jealous of your ex's beautiful quirky new best friend. Even if they really are just friends. Even if they study together when he and I never did.
But I've never been bad to her. I've gone out of my way to smile and wave when I really don't feel like it. So she's talking to us today and I realize that she's much like a friend of mine back home and it makes me feel kind of weird. But it also makes something hateful go away inside me. It also makes me miss my friend, even though she draws quick judgements, just like this quirky girl who just blew in from god knows where.
He leaves, I stay. I invite her to sit with me. I forgot to prepare myself for the barrage of words that would spring forth from her skinny body, but I'm trying to manage. She moves from subject to subject with dizzying force and speed. There's no turning back with her. But she's funny and weird and talking so fast I can barely keep up.
We stand up for a coffee house version of musical chairs, but without the mad rush to sit down before anyone else. She is telling me something, as if it all has to get out of her mouth in 10 seconds or less. She is standing inside my bubble, my personal space, and I let her, because I don't want her to think I'm rude if I step back. I'm trying. Maybe she is too.
We re-situate and re-seat. She brings me candy from her convenience store raid. It feels like a schoolgirl peace pipe, with the promise of bubble gum at the center. Perhaps we're both trying. And not for each other. For this other, this man. The one between us who doesn't want us to fight. It seems so convoluted. She has some problem with me, and I can't tell why. I'd rather not speculate. She's a mysterious character, mostly because of the rare sightings and mixed feelings.
I'm complex; she's complex. He's complex too.
posted by Ocean | 10:04 PM
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