Author: catalougedreams PM
I don't think I could ever tell you my thoughts. So I'll write them down instead and hopefully, then, you'll be satisfied with how intellectual I am.Rated: Fiction T - English - Hurt/Comfort/Angst - Words: 667 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 12-13-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3082610
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm sitting here, waiting for both replies from both of you.
I don't mind waiting really; I've trained my emotions to not over flow so I'm a blubbering idiot. I'm good at that.
I'm sure you may answer and have a conversation with me to last the night. Not 3 texts.
I just don't know how to react about today.
Should I cry, shrug it off, hurt myself and tell myself I'm an idiot?
I couldn't help but feel a jab of hurt erupt inside of me. My heart sank.
It was like I was watching from the outside.
Leaning on the table as I watched my two best friends talk and share banter I quickly looked down and tried to not let my throat restrict. I felt isolated, trapped but I couldn't move. I just let a small smile slip through my mask so not to worry them.
I tried to interrupt them to get us talking about something we could all laugh about so we were a never ending circle not a object with a third wheel which isn't needed. But they just dismissed my attempt of talking about the new book coming out; trying to sound intellectual as they had said so many times in the past.
"We're just intellectual partners" Ashliegh tried to reassure me, "Partners of the mind"
I forced a smile and nodded my understanding.
"And anyway," Dylan and added and I felt a flutter of hope rise in my chest. "We've been going on about this Illuminati for a year"
And I could feel myself fall to the floor.
Not trusting my voice I only nodded and forced another smile out.
And then they went on talking.
So I just faded into the background and slipped under the table, hidden from everyone and everything.
I don't mean to seem selfish but I wonder whether I really mean anything to them. Maybe I'm just there so if one of them is missing, they can talk to me. Maybe they just can't seem to get rid of me; I'm there all the time, maybe this is just a hint that they don't want me any more.
So I stayed on the ground, faintly hearing their conversation.
They were talking again.
I had muttered out a snide comment about how my mind is so fucked up that they would have to send me to a mental hospital if they knew what I was thinking.
Dylan sighed heavily.
Pulling a chair out he sat in front of me and spoke in a patronizing tone.
"Come on Steph, give us an intellectual topic"
Many things came to my mind.
"Say one of your many crazy ideas in our head" he added.
I don't think he meant it in a horrible way but I lashed out and curled up on the floor.
He wants to hear what goes on in my mind?
Many a times I think of what happens in the next life; I get myself worked up until I'm near to tears. I think of possibilities then I sit and pray with tears running down my face.
Many a times I think of how the Jewish religion came about and I work myself up, saying how it didn't, someone made it up and that leads up to thinking of Christianity and how it could ever happen.
But then I pray and the red monster slowly creeps back into its pit until I wake it and it goads me into thinking dark thoughts.
And then I think of the future, what will happen to the Earth, when its inhabited what will happen to it after we've all gone. (Is that intellectual enough for you both?!) And I work myself up again, the creature rising up until I shake my head and think of something to keep me occupied.
I think of the end of the world and when it will happen; spending hours researching the Mayans or other prophesied endings until I tear my hair out.
And once I thought of how God came across and whenever I voice this, I get a heap load of SHIT coming from your mouth!
And you tell me I'm wrong. Christianity is a myth and then when I deny it, you go and talk to him! and talk fucking intellectual thoughts and I try and tell you about how I believe in the Big Bang, you don't care.
And maybe when I was younger I would play with myself with my imaginary friends and I would have lots of friends; all who cared for me.
And I tell you both that.
"Awh baby" Ashliegh mocks and I just get more angry.
And I see Dylan, just sneering at me like I'm a loon.
And maybe I am but that was the last straw and I didn't tell you anything else for fear you'd ridicule me.
So I shrug it off, feigning the hurt that is actually present.
And I keep this in and you both don't care.
An you probably never will.
But that's okay, I get it.
I may be smart but not smart enough for you both.
But that's fine. I have God.
I'll be the third wheel that you both use me for.
So I sit here writing this and wait for your letter to ask me how I am.
And I know it will never arrive.