"Some people are just gracefully happy and it doesn't seem like they're rubbing it in your face."
"...That's why ppl like to laugh together, it means they're all on the same page."
"Modesty. People like that."
It requires a certain level of skill to talk to you. It's a skill that everyone around you has to work hard to master for fear of failing with disastrous consequences. This wouldn't be so bad if you didn't exert so little effort when speaking to others. You don't go out of your way even an inch to make other people comfortable, while they are walking on eggshells scattered over thin ice under shaking icicles for you... Thats why its exhausting to be your friend.
"The problem with busy people is that they they only hang out with the ppl who they like the MOST so why would they hang out with me? They dont have the time for people who they like a little bit." He says.
The character of you when I write it will be slightly deaf the way you are slightly deaf. In the picture of our relationship, your deafness will illustrate how frustrating it is when you talk and talk and then when I respond you say "what?"
You tell no objective stories. Every anecdote is so concretely inside your pov, for the whole car ride its as though your voice is narrating my mind.
...They were an itchy class. They might have just slipped through unnoticed like for instance a quiet insecure class might have done. But part of their itchiness was that they all had huge egos so they talked about themselves constantly. They talked about their itchiness.
When I spend time with him I feel how huge and delicate my life is. Probably because, weather it's true or not, I feel that he doesn't value his own life and so if he is leading, or even simply present, we wont necessarily fall into situations that are necessarily safe.
I cant help but think about myself as I appear in his story. I don't want to be another part of people who leave and abuse and misunderstand him, almost as an impulse to avoid a cliche.
I want to save him so that he can't have the satisfaction of being right about his predictable situation. But he is right. In his story I am just another relationship which he tried to maintain and only pushed away.
The kid sitting outside the door smoking a cigarette at the top of the stairs has sharpie all over on his arms.
"Who has secrets anymore?"
Godfather: try to think as people around you think and on that basis anythings possible
Sort of between people right now
"Sometimes is a percentage!"
"I kissed my person last night."
"She kissed me."
"It's not a contest."
"Yes it is."
"Well then I won the contest."