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Women: Stream of Conciousness

A steam of conciousness about women

I feel like I should...no, wait; I feel obligated to set the record straight on my view on women; The old goddesses. Because I have been known to publicly spew comments which seem to be of pure "this kid's got mommy issues" essence. The thing is...I hate them so much...because, well...because of my own self loathing...because I love them so much that I don't have the fucking balls or social skills to speak up (so I blame it on them). As cheesy, stupid, and hypocritically ironically awkward a statement as that is...I think that's what it is.

It's like...when you're at a bar. And you see a girl who's really, really fucking...just, beautiful...a real knock-out, a fucking Queen...you want to tell her. But if you have any shred of pessimism to yourself, or even the tiniest iniest bit of insecurity (which mine are opposite, obviously), you just don't. And then you point the finger at the girl: fucking bitch, she wouldn't talk to me anyway. Bitch probably expects me to get her a drink. No...I'm the bitch.

Now, I've seen plenty of evidence that guys like me actually DON'T get girls, I've been cheated on...dumped, whatever, you name it. But that's no reason to believe every one of them will spit in your face the second you speak up. No, it's goddamn prejudice is what it is. It's like when you hear of a white cop (or vice-versa) who shoots an innocent black/white man...and you blame the entire white/black race over an example of one stupid human being...or a lot of stupid human beings, which there are a lot of (especially in law enforcement).

But I'm totally digressing. Totally. The point is I can't help it. The point is, and this might be taking things for granted...but trust me I'm not...I'm really not: if I was deaf, hmm...if I was deaf that would be something. I could write everything I had to say down, look to the floor while she reads...never have to socially place myself into the "I can hold a conversation" or "I can't hold a conversation" categories. Never have to constantly worry about whether or not I am good enough to ever be able to get to hold this girl's hand in public.

And I'm a fucking sucker for affection. I'm a goddamn limp-wristed romantic. Somebody should bitch slap the shit out of me one day. And I mean it.

I'd offer every single one I've ever offended an apology...if I could write it down. I've got no backbone man...I'm fucking weak.

So my scenario would be like...you see a really cute girl that you've actually known for a while. And you envision taking a piece of paper out and writing:

I noticed that your favorite color is purple
and that you only like vanilla scented candles
and that you hate other girls because you think they're catty
and how you can't go to bed unless your hair's tied up
and that you hate bands that sound too happy
or that you're obssessed with the Smiths, but not because you watched 500 Days of Summer or listen to Brand New
and how you love Belle and Sebastion but never admit it to your friends
and how you hate the movie Juno
or how flip your hair over your ear when you're talking to a guy you're interested in
or how perfect you look every day
and how you make my stomach curl when you walk in a room

you don't think I listen when you talk you dont think I notice
But I do.
I do.

And flip up that piece of paper and slip it in her pocket and let her read it without having to speak it..without even having to be there. And if she calls you she calls you and if she doesn't she doesn't.

But writer's were never really all that lucky, were they? Look at the statistics.

And you can't write..you have to speak.

So I am sorry...I'm just infatuated. And the main problem with me is...I don't listen to my own words. I'm aware of all my flaws, but can't fix them.

I'm a goddamn freak.

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