People are.......interesting

Utterly Frustrating

        I don’t know if this is about you, or if it’s about me, but every day that we talk I find myself contradicting you. People know you as the nice girl, and me as the one who doesn’t care: but look at us both again, and you are nice to hide the pain while I care too much. In the end, I find you utterly frustrating.  

This is your.....biography. Kinda. It doesn’t really matter where you were born or how it all happened, but what does matter is what you sculpted yourself to be. So far. 

You see, I may not know you like I think I do, but I do think I know enough. For three years, you haven't changed. You have? Oh no, child, I beg to differ. Before I didn't understand. Confused, i just watched and waited. 

I waited for the day I could speak up and maybe....change you. Well, not you, your thinking. Because no matter how many rumors you hear,  the amount of drama you get involved in, or how many games of Never Have I Ever or Truth or Dare you play, you will always be innocent.

        When you say that I…..know people, I don't understand. You tell me people are annoying, and say people are……intimidating. I remind you that you are a person too. I tell you that people are harmless unless you let them affect you. You say no matter how hard you try, people will always affect you. You told me that you don't really think you could intimidate people.

But, I’ve watched as you let people in. Parts of them unknowingly seep inside you as they laugh, and you find yourself laughing along. I wonder if you keep those parts of them, only waiting for them to ask for it back. You understand the pain of losing someone. One time I told you I didn’t like people, and you agreed, but why?

        For every time you say "I know", I wonder if you really heard the question, because hearing your next words makes me think you didn't quite understand it. Not yet. In time, I'll ask you the same question with different words, but again you'll say "I know", and I'm still left wondering.

        In virtual conversation, you rarely ever run out of questions. When you do, I reward myself knowing that I could possibly render you speechless. 

        I tell you I'd rather speak in person, yet we text daily. I fear one day when there's nothing left to say, things might be.....awkward. Because for you, texting is fun and effortless, but for me it’s hard unless it means something. I want every conversation to mean something. otherwise…..what’s the point? 

        A lot of the time, you tell me you’re bored. The authors of the world simply can’t write books faster than you can read them . You say you’d like to cherish each word, but your book is usually closed before mine. When you let the book go, it waits for the day you might decided to pick it up again. 

        When we read, we enter a different world. A world of fiction that absorbs us and makes us think we’ve been brought to a place full of beautiful people and unseen places where nothing could go wrong. Happy endings are commonly written and are preferred over the sad ones. In a fictional world where someone dies, you read that book at least 3 times wanting to remember how the character was alive. In another fictional world where the characters live, you let the story die and gather dust.

        A story only continues if the book is left open.

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Author's Note

        Hi loves ~ Umm sorry for this rant, and i know it isn't written in a poetic format, but imagine it being spoken word. This is for a friend of mine, and I honestly don't know how she'll take it. -Airi