Under The Coffee Table
It's 2am again. I'm lying with my head under the coffee table while my two beat friends scream a reference from The Advengers to the sleeping neighboorhood, hoping it will bring a sense of excitment and spontinuity to the moment of being underclassmen in a small town in New Hampshire, before they have to figure anything out like ancient formulas washed away in the waves of time. I'm the senior--scared, alone, unexcited, losing her spontaneous nature--lying with her head under the coffee table. I have already tried filling in the missing tiles of the formula lost to erosion with my own poisoned conseptions.
I fill them in with idea rooted in the dispears layer of fear in my consious; "I will never fall in love," "I am born to die a black and white portrait in a hall of rainbow dyed frames," "My dreams are too large and untealistic to achieve," and "I will end up another face in another college that could not find frim footing in their goals."
I gave my number to a cute boy today. I discovered all he wanted was for people to worship him. Many of my previous romantic endevors have ended the same, but hurt and dragged on for much longer. And sometime between saying, "I like you" and "What was his name again?" I find myself haunted with misconceptions of being unloveable, ugly, fat, and unworthy of love. Of course, none of these have ever been love. The difference between genuinly liking someone and liking the attention they give you is an attonishing realization. I hope someday it will feel easy to say, "I love you" or "I miss you." It hasn't yet. It probaby won't for a long time. But I wonder how long I can keep falling in attention-love before I surrender, feeling as though maybe I am not one of the lucky hopeless romantics who find what they dreamday about on sunny August afternoons. Maybe I will not find the easy love until I love all the attention to the point of an internal flame is suffocating, leaving no more light to guide the hopeful whispers that overwhelm the screaming misconceptions. Or maybe I never will.