AND AFTER
But what would happen after I tell her I love her, or after I kiss her, or after a take her hand in mine? She could tell me she loves me back, kiss me back or take my other hand.
She could also tell me she doesn't love me like I love her, she could reject me when I try to kiss her, she could tell me to let go of her hand.
Everything about her is so mystic and unpredictable. It frustrates me that I cannot anticipate what she'll do at all.
It also frustrates me that I don't have enough self-confidence to walk up to her right now. She's right there, and I've been trying to gather up all my courage for the longest time. But deep down inside of my head, there's always this little voice.
You're a coward, my dear. A pathetic and lonely coward. Did I mishear or did you really say that you were trying to gather up all your courage? Have you forgotten that you don't have any? I'd almost pity you, if you didn't deserve this. Whose fault is it that you're alone, living your shitty life surrounded by shitty people that do shitty stuff, huh? She's never going to love you back anyways. Why do you even try, darling?
And that voice is right. Why did I ever fall for such a magnificent person? She doesn't even realize how much she's adored, and I'd say that it's a bit sad, but if she knew the amount of people who love her, I'm afraid she'd transform into a monster motivated by popularity.
Let's go back to Mona Lisa. She just sits there with her smile and watches everyone rhapsodize in front of her. But she isn't really there to watch them, she's in the painting. She's right there, but also very far away. She's out of reach, just like that girl, the girl.
YOU ARE READING
That Girl
Short StoryShe is different. In a good way. The kind of different that attracts people like me. She isn't exactly an outcast, because she deliberately decided to have no friends and be alone. Trust me, she could have anyone she wants as a friend or significant...
