Kind Conversation

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
The conversations I have with myself

Submitted: March 21, 2014

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Submitted: March 21, 2014

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~~I could feel myself come alive when I looked into her eyes. It was the way she looked back at me that did it. She welcomed me in with her smile. Not the smile of her lips; it was her eyes that smiled back at me. While her eyes welcomed me in, it was when she spoke to me, when she laughed with me that she hurried me in and quickly locked the door behind her. That was it. I was through; trapped forever in her spell of laughter and kind conversation. Deep down I am a fool. Or maybe not deep down; but perhaps I wear it clearly for everyone to see except myself. How I can become so consumed with a person after one conversation with them is still a mystery to me. I think about this problem I have every night, in between thoughts of her. I suppose I have always been this way, and if that’s the case than I am rather stuck like this for the rest of my life. This really is worrisome. I look around and see everyone so happy, so carefree, and then I look at myself in the mirror and all I see is someone with a near delusional view of reality. The reality I live most of the day is the reality in my head, which I am not sure, is reality or not. But I pretend it is none the less. I go through my day dreaming about this conversation or that conversation and I think how easily it could have turned into something more. And in my head it happens so effortlessly: one moment we are deep in conversation and the next we are picking out furniture for our new one bedroom apartment in the city; it will be cramped but I am sure it will only bring us closer together. Recently I have become increasingly aware of these dreams that turn quickly into happily ever after. This is worrisome as well. I guess if nothing else I can’t be crazy because I am at least aware of the insane thoughts I have in my head. At least that’s what everyone else says, ‘crazy people don’t know they are crazy’. Well I know I am crazy so what does that make me? By this time the conversation has ended and her smiling eyes have turned into a questioning almost fearful gaze as she asks me what I am looking at. ‘Nothing’, I say and continue on my day.


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