• Wasted Knowledge

    by  • November 3, 2011 • Miss You • 0 Comments

    It seems kinda wasted now. All the things I know about you. It’s almost like I just have to look at you, and I don’t even think about it I just… understand. It’s been going on a while now and it just seems silly. You don’t even talk to me any more, not in public at least. You don’t want to break your reputation with your friends now do you? It was bad enough you dated me once let alone talking to me afterwards! Christ. Sometimes I can’t help think you’re plain stupid for acting like such a twat. But that’s not the point.

    What annoys me? Is that I know you.
    Not in a “oh I wish I’d never met you” way, it just annoys me because I should hate you, or at least feel complete indifference. But no, I like you (love you whatever) enough to still recognise all the little things that you do. To still know all your little looks and gestures. It annoys me that I notice these things!! What does it matter?!

    Take this morning, for example.
    The university decided to check the fire alarm procedure for our building at 9 am this morning. Normal thing, it goes off, we all protest and drag our carcasses out the building whilst they check no one’s in the building. Then there’s the awkward five minutes whilst we stand there shivering in various stages of waking up before we’re allowed to trek back in. And in those five minutes I saw you standing not three metres from me, and I knew exactly what was in your head. You don’t have rehearsals until ten, so you were probably still in bed. The way you weren’t talking and your eyes told me that you didn’t get much sleep last night so you were probably gaming until the wee hours again. You’d only just woken up and probably had just thrown on last nights clothes before coming out. I knew you would probably either go back to bed when you went back in, or get straight in the shower. You always have a shower to wake up in the mornings. The coffee you left until late nights when you wanted to stay awake. You’re a morning person, unlike me.

    But why should I care? Why should it matter to me what you’re like? We were just two people standing in a crowd shivering in the early morning Welsh drizzle. You shouldn’t matter to me any more. I wouldn’t say I don’t want you to matter any more but… damn it. This isn’t right.

    You know what hurts most? I think I know what that look is you give me sometimes. It’s not as common as it used to be, but it’s still there sometimes. Almost like disgust. Annoyance. What have I done to annoy you? I want to scream at you, I know you better than I know myself so help me know myself! Help me goddamnit! I want to understand me, and you can help me. Not that I can tell you that. Not that I ever feel like I can tell you the truth any more. I just stand in the back; watch, and understand. I hope someone else understands you too, so it’s not just me. I wish you were mine though. Selfish little me. I’m sorry. Like I said, I don’t even have to think about it any more. That’s what scares me. I don’t have to think about knowing you, You don’t even think about me.
    I don’t think so anyway.

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