I Don't Know
The Grocery... I was a bit nervous, sitting in the car. I was wondering if I should call, or if I should just wait until she got here. I pulled out my phone and opened it, and then she came into view. She didn't see me at first. It might have been the haircut, or the glasses, it had been so long since we'd seen each other. She had never seen my car, either. I waved frantically, then, chiding myself for seeming foolish, tried a cooler, more nonchalant wave. She still didn't see, and started to pull out her phone. She looked up to see me waving, smiled, and walked over.
She looked really quite the same, from where I was sitting. Still the long, light brown hair, still the peacoat, still the endless blue eyes. When she started talking to me though I could tell how much she had changed. Her voice was more even, more confident. It smoothly rolled off her tongue into carefully formed thoughts, while before, it stammered out in short bursts. She wasn't the nervous, inexperienced freshman I had once known, so long ago, when we both were as awkward and inexperienced as any new college kid could be.
I noticed this change all the way to the grocery store, and through it. The more I noticed it, the more I noticed how she had grown, I noticed how little I had. I still stammer in short bursts. I'm still very awkward, I still struggle to find things to say, I still second guess everything that comes out of my mouth, every minute action I take. How have I not evolved? Because I can't help but to shut myself up in my shell, and to never risk looking dumb, or getting on someones bad side. No, I couldn't ever handle that happening to me. It's safer to shut up, go unnoticed, become a wallflower.
My friend's spending the night at a girl's today. He's pretty much the same person that I am. But he's willing to take risks, he's willing to look stupid. Because there's the off chance that one person might like it. And he must have found that person. I'm happy for him, I truly am, but thinking about it, thinking about how that could be me, just makes me want to crumple my quietness into a ball, throw it in a corner, and say something, say anything! But every time I've ever vowed to, I inevitably fall back into old, comfortable patterns.
I got a call from a friend during the shopping trip, and made every effort to sound as cool and outgoing and wonderful that I wanted everyone to think I was. And I think I actually came off that way. I know I could be an outgoing person if I really tried, but part of me hates that. Part of me really and truly hates peppy people who say everything that comes to their mind and are cheerful about every goddamn little thing. I know I could be that, but if I feel this way inside (and of course, don't voice it) about these people, I know some people will feel the same about me. And I just couldn't take that. Why? Why must I feel the constant need to either be liked or unnoticed by everyone. Why do I have a problem with the fact that one, just one person might not like me? I don't like some people, and they sure as hell don't have problems with that, why do I?
As I helped her take her groceries inside, there was an awkward goodbye. She looked goddamn beautiful. Why couldn't I tell her? Not even now, back then? Why was I so focused on all her flaws, flaws I didn't notice in the least today, that I couldn't tell this girl that clearly liked me that I liked her back? Now of course, being too late, as she's spoken for, but why not back then? I doubt I could do it now, even if she wasn't spoken for. That's how little I've grown.
As I drove away, with The Beatles singing in the background, despite all this inner turmoil, this anguish, I couldn't help but be at peace, god knows why. This is who I am. I can try to change, and lose some of myself, but is that self worth keeping? I don't know. A new semester is coming 'round the mountain, straight for me, and time will tell how I act, grow, or remain stagnant. I really liked her. I'm happy for her now. I never thought that all this self-containment, -preservation would be such a detriment to ever getting close to someone, now did I now did I now did I...
She looked really quite the same, from where I was sitting. Still the long, light brown hair, still the peacoat, still the endless blue eyes. When she started talking to me though I could tell how much she had changed. Her voice was more even, more confident. It smoothly rolled off her tongue into carefully formed thoughts, while before, it stammered out in short bursts. She wasn't the nervous, inexperienced freshman I had once known, so long ago, when we both were as awkward and inexperienced as any new college kid could be.
I noticed this change all the way to the grocery store, and through it. The more I noticed it, the more I noticed how she had grown, I noticed how little I had. I still stammer in short bursts. I'm still very awkward, I still struggle to find things to say, I still second guess everything that comes out of my mouth, every minute action I take. How have I not evolved? Because I can't help but to shut myself up in my shell, and to never risk looking dumb, or getting on someones bad side. No, I couldn't ever handle that happening to me. It's safer to shut up, go unnoticed, become a wallflower.
My friend's spending the night at a girl's today. He's pretty much the same person that I am. But he's willing to take risks, he's willing to look stupid. Because there's the off chance that one person might like it. And he must have found that person. I'm happy for him, I truly am, but thinking about it, thinking about how that could be me, just makes me want to crumple my quietness into a ball, throw it in a corner, and say something, say anything! But every time I've ever vowed to, I inevitably fall back into old, comfortable patterns.
I got a call from a friend during the shopping trip, and made every effort to sound as cool and outgoing and wonderful that I wanted everyone to think I was. And I think I actually came off that way. I know I could be an outgoing person if I really tried, but part of me hates that. Part of me really and truly hates peppy people who say everything that comes to their mind and are cheerful about every goddamn little thing. I know I could be that, but if I feel this way inside (and of course, don't voice it) about these people, I know some people will feel the same about me. And I just couldn't take that. Why? Why must I feel the constant need to either be liked or unnoticed by everyone. Why do I have a problem with the fact that one, just one person might not like me? I don't like some people, and they sure as hell don't have problems with that, why do I?
As I helped her take her groceries inside, there was an awkward goodbye. She looked goddamn beautiful. Why couldn't I tell her? Not even now, back then? Why was I so focused on all her flaws, flaws I didn't notice in the least today, that I couldn't tell this girl that clearly liked me that I liked her back? Now of course, being too late, as she's spoken for, but why not back then? I doubt I could do it now, even if she wasn't spoken for. That's how little I've grown.
As I drove away, with The Beatles singing in the background, despite all this inner turmoil, this anguish, I couldn't help but be at peace, god knows why. This is who I am. I can try to change, and lose some of myself, but is that self worth keeping? I don't know. A new semester is coming 'round the mountain, straight for me, and time will tell how I act, grow, or remain stagnant. I really liked her. I'm happy for her now. I never thought that all this self-containment, -preservation would be such a detriment to ever getting close to someone, now did I now did I now did I...
31-35, M