Butcher Bar
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like someone else told me? This song would describe me better, or at least that was what she'd said as the old one had made me feel like a monster. I knew she'd been saying that because that might encourage me to keep writing, though ignoring my feelings would be just another lie. When I hadn't tried to impress, she'd thought I did. Somehow it made me feel so weak, chasing after any word she said as if I could get rich if I accumulated them. I didn't know how she was able to forgive me when I still couldn't digest what I'd done to her. I'd thought I would like that, but I didn't… I didn't deserve her, I never would.
I lurched to my feet, squinting through my spectator binoculars at what had distracted me for a moment. I zoomed in, Persian-blue colored waves slapped against the fossils that had bulged along the shore. With a quick-short movement, I watched the foam flooding towards the couple that was sprawling out motionless across the hot sand,
staring at each other with their hands held. It seemed like the conversation they had been having led to this passionate kiss, love and affection bound two people together in a show that I was now witnessing. My eyes were locked on these bodies as I began to ponder again, speaking the words out of this man's head.
Why was she with me? I wished I could take a peek into her mind, just for a split second, and then trying to read as many thoughts as I would find exposed. At this moment, the only thing I felt like doing was to become a mind-reader, knowing anything about anyone and still being able to conceal yours as if it was a secret that you were attempting to keep only to yourself. I knew that I would have to heritage this ability from her when she passed away, though it seemed like I'd be the first.
Beauty was what I'd thought would be the greatest twist in my life, like something anyone would consider an advantage whether it came to hitting on pretty girls or just as a confidence thing. Today, I had a million reasons why I wouldn't want this to happen, why an average face would do a way better now. I wanted to know the truth, I wanted her to admit she didn't like me, or at least not as much as she claimed she did. It was dumb to believe she felt the same as she had a couple of weeks ago, even stupider to think her words had been coming out of her heart. I wondered if she knew mine didn't exist. Yeah, she probably did, it would explain why she was still with me, looking for something else to break apart.
It was obvious that my appearance was what had established this relationship. Even when times had made this impossible, she'd always managed to find a way to settle things as if the planet would've exploded if she hadn't. I'd wanted to tell her to stop acting like that, to stop sacrificing things for me. It wasn't something that a normal guy would have let his girl do, even not for him, especially not before the first anniversary. But then it'd been my reluctance that held me there, freezing me in place because I'd thought maybe she just liked doing that, sort of appreciation that she felt I should have. Of course, I wasn't going to take that honor away from her, but why me? That only gave me the urge to do the same, to show her I cared about her not less than she cared about me. Or maybe to go and declare I loved her no matter what. And if she'd take that seriously, I said I'd been just joking around, well that would probably just make her cry. But what about me? How was I supposed to tell her I didn't feel the same in a way that wouldn't hurt her?
Admittance was the last thing I would ever be good at, not that I had issues with ego, but just considering too much the damage my words could cause, the sound of tears being shed just because of me, rejection. I couldn't have it on my conscience, knew I'd never be merciful enough to leave that behind me.
I lurched to my feet, squinting through my spectator binoculars at what had distracted me for a moment. I zoomed in, Persian-blue colored waves slapped against the fossils that had bulged along the shore. With a quick-short movement, I watched the foam flooding towards the couple that was sprawling out motionless across the hot sand,
staring at each other with their hands held. It seemed like the conversation they had been having led to this passionate kiss, love and affection bound two people together in a show that I was now witnessing. My eyes were locked on these bodies as I began to ponder again, speaking the words out of this man's head.
Why was she with me? I wished I could take a peek into her mind, just for a split second, and then trying to read as many thoughts as I would find exposed. At this moment, the only thing I felt like doing was to become a mind-reader, knowing anything about anyone and still being able to conceal yours as if it was a secret that you were attempting to keep only to yourself. I knew that I would have to heritage this ability from her when she passed away, though it seemed like I'd be the first.
Beauty was what I'd thought would be the greatest twist in my life, like something anyone would consider an advantage whether it came to hitting on pretty girls or just as a confidence thing. Today, I had a million reasons why I wouldn't want this to happen, why an average face would do a way better now. I wanted to know the truth, I wanted her to admit she didn't like me, or at least not as much as she claimed she did. It was dumb to believe she felt the same as she had a couple of weeks ago, even stupider to think her words had been coming out of her heart. I wondered if she knew mine didn't exist. Yeah, she probably did, it would explain why she was still with me, looking for something else to break apart.
It was obvious that my appearance was what had established this relationship. Even when times had made this impossible, she'd always managed to find a way to settle things as if the planet would've exploded if she hadn't. I'd wanted to tell her to stop acting like that, to stop sacrificing things for me. It wasn't something that a normal guy would have let his girl do, even not for him, especially not before the first anniversary. But then it'd been my reluctance that held me there, freezing me in place because I'd thought maybe she just liked doing that, sort of appreciation that she felt I should have. Of course, I wasn't going to take that honor away from her, but why me? That only gave me the urge to do the same, to show her I cared about her not less than she cared about me. Or maybe to go and declare I loved her no matter what. And if she'd take that seriously, I said I'd been just joking around, well that would probably just make her cry. But what about me? How was I supposed to tell her I didn't feel the same in a way that wouldn't hurt her?
Admittance was the last thing I would ever be good at, not that I had issues with ego, but just considering too much the damage my words could cause, the sound of tears being shed just because of me, rejection. I couldn't have it on my conscience, knew I'd never be merciful enough to leave that behind me.