Inadequacy
I'm starting to suffer from foreign language schizophrenia. I've studied that damn phrasebook so long I'm starting to have random phrases running through my head, only I don't know what half of them mean. What time is it? is the only one that I seem to really remember.
P.S. This trip is going to rock. Because I rock. At least in the language department.
I lag in most of the other departments.
He met me for a visit to the beach today. It was pleasant enough, as long as I was oblivious to pretty much everything. Which can be difficult. He didn't notice my new suit. I must admit, I was disappointed. I was hoping he'd say it looked great on me or something, just to let me know he's paying at least a little bit of attention, but he didn't. Sigh.
I was actually enjoying the silly conversation, and the subsequent fade into nothingness as we laid like the seals on the sand. Basking. I sat up first. I could feel the sweat all over me, and the wind blowing it dry. Sand falling from my hair and knees. He sat up. He slowly rubbed the sand off his knees and shins. I wondered why he was doing it so slowly. And then I saw that he was staring at the two young hot chicks about thirty feet away and suddenly I was sorry. Sorry I had ever come here with him. My good time was suddenly gone and replaced with yet another reminder of why I will never be good enough for him. Because I can't look like them. They roll over and grab a book or their cell phone and he is entranced. I can't compete with that.
I wonder why I do this to myself. It seems to happen pretty much all the time. I want to spend time with him so badly because I (think I) enjoy it, and then I get there and he'll say something or not say something or stare at someone or ignore me and it makes me sorry to be there. It makes me wonder why I keep thinking that this time will be different and I won't be disappointed. Because I always am.
Inevitably, the tears came on the ride home. I hate driving and crying. But there's no stopping it. Along with the infestuous feeling of eternal inadequacy. That I will never, and have never, been good enough. When really that's all I ever wanted.
P.S. This trip is going to rock. Because I rock. At least in the language department.
I lag in most of the other departments.
He met me for a visit to the beach today. It was pleasant enough, as long as I was oblivious to pretty much everything. Which can be difficult. He didn't notice my new suit. I must admit, I was disappointed. I was hoping he'd say it looked great on me or something, just to let me know he's paying at least a little bit of attention, but he didn't. Sigh.
I was actually enjoying the silly conversation, and the subsequent fade into nothingness as we laid like the seals on the sand. Basking. I sat up first. I could feel the sweat all over me, and the wind blowing it dry. Sand falling from my hair and knees. He sat up. He slowly rubbed the sand off his knees and shins. I wondered why he was doing it so slowly. And then I saw that he was staring at the two young hot chicks about thirty feet away and suddenly I was sorry. Sorry I had ever come here with him. My good time was suddenly gone and replaced with yet another reminder of why I will never be good enough for him. Because I can't look like them. They roll over and grab a book or their cell phone and he is entranced. I can't compete with that.
I wonder why I do this to myself. It seems to happen pretty much all the time. I want to spend time with him so badly because I (think I) enjoy it, and then I get there and he'll say something or not say something or stare at someone or ignore me and it makes me sorry to be there. It makes me wonder why I keep thinking that this time will be different and I won't be disappointed. Because I always am.
Inevitably, the tears came on the ride home. I hate driving and crying. But there's no stopping it. Along with the infestuous feeling of eternal inadequacy. That I will never, and have never, been good enough. When really that's all I ever wanted.
posted by Ocean | 12:52 AM
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