To You: With the Eyes


I admit, no one has ever looked at me quite like that. I’m not sure I have ever hated a look more.

It’s a look that says: Hey, I’m obligated to make conversation, but you know what? I’d rather be anywhere else. No, really. Pick a place. Especially, with your hot friend… Do you think if I stop trying to be friends with you she’ll stop wanting to screw me?

It’s so weird! I hear people talking about you and I hear, “Have you seen his eyes? He has gorgeous eyes.” And I hate your eyes. But mostly I hate how they look at me.

You know that way you speak to me? Do you speak to everyone that way? I admit, I’ve never quite paid attention when you speak to others. Just me, really. I suppose you could call that self-absorbed… It’s almost like you’re speaking to a child. A very weird child, whose parent you’re getting involved with. You speak to me as if I’m an obstacle. In this weirdly condescending manner and I don’t quite understand it.

It dawned on me recently that for conversation to work, all parties have to be interested in each other’s company. But here we are. You think I’m hard to speak to and I think the same about you. I think you’re boring, and maybe you think the same, about me? It wouldn’t surprise me.

I get it though. We don’t have much in common and I think I have so much animosity towards you because you don’t care if we do. Not really. And I hate that I can be even the slightest bit affected by whether someone else believes me worth conversation, but somehow I am. I care less than I would normally, but still, I care.

I’m annoyed by this. Which makes me annoyed by you. I have no real reason to dislike you other than, you seem bent on disliking me. So I just dislike you on principle. And there it is.

I almost want to call it jealousy, but it’s more like that word that means “pushed away, forgotten, left out”: the word I can’t remember.

And I guess that’s that. I just don’t like you all that much. Or your stupid eyes. Eh.

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