Yeah, I Know
by Noise Pollution
It’s only been two days.
I’m clearly crazy.
But bleh. Falling for people is awful. As someone who was at one point a hopeless romantic but is now hopelessly cynical, I never really want to fall for anyone. Especially not, like, at first sight or anything. I know for a fact that these feelings are bullshit. They’re not based in anything. I obviously just think she’s hot. Or whatever. Even though that may be the first time I’ve used that word in all of my obsessing. It’s been a barrage of “beautiful,” “pretty,” and the cold, clinical “attractive” that I am ever so fond of using.
The word puts some distance between myself and the feeling. It suddenly becomes just another impulse to examine, rather than something screaming from the inside of me begging to get out. At least, that’s what I’m attempting to do. But I think my natural instinct is to bathe in this feeling.
Love is like a drug, you know? And I don’t mean that in a poetic sense, I mean your brain literally releases endorphins when experiencing it.
I kind of almost wish I didn’t know that fact. Then I could pretend this feeling was something magical; something important. But instead I have to live with the knowledge that this feeling is little different from the feeling I got from the assortment of multicolored ambiguous pills I took in school to get high. And it really isn’t all that different, upon actual close-up examination. Which makes me vaguely disgusted by it. Not because I’m disgusted by the idea of getting high, but because I hate the idea of using human beings as focused, reusable serotonin manufacturers. Taking a pill and getting an artificial version of that feeling is much more appealing to me, simply because the manipulation factor isn’t there. I’m not manipulating anyone when I take a pill to get high. I am when I steal a kiss to get high.
But even though I’m spouting all of this pseudo-philosophical rhetoric, it’s all kind of meaningless given the context of the actual situation. This is all an overreaction to a single non-event that occurred on Thursday. And I mean, non-event. Nothing significant happened, she just happened to be beautiful. And she was beautiful in such a way that struck me somewhere subconsciously; she clearly reminds me of someone or something I’m fond of or was once fond of. There’s no other explanation for this; I haven’t felt this way about someone since I was a teenager.
And that’s kind of fucked up. And it explains my over-the-top reaction to it all; I’ve felt as though my emotions were stunted in a way since I got past the hormonal nonsense of adolescence. And maybe they were, though I suspect that this is a chicken-or-the-egg situation; it’s more likely that my emotions were just significantly heightened back then, and upon exiting that stage in my life, they settled into a more stable, sensible place.
Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it; maybe it would have been a gradual thing had I not been recklessly abusing drugs through my transition into this technical adulthood. I kept the emotional fires raging through constant highs and lows, and when I suddenly stopped having those highs and lows… The emotional “middle ground” that I eventually returned to was a much duller place than it was when I was younger.
I’m digressing here, though with this being nothing more than a monologue that almost no one besides myself is going to experience, the negative aspects of a digression don’t really have any meaning. But I do have a point that I want to make to myself, so I need to weave back into the main topic from time to time at least. The point I was trying to make before dissecting my steps into my shitty excuse for adulthood was that feeling something as vividly as I did when I was fifteen is kind of… it’s incredibly off-putting and I’m at a total loss. It’s overwhelming. I’m so unfathomably attracted to her right now, and it’s both unhealthy and unbecoming. And it’s also distressing, because I have so little control over it. I want to stop feeling it. I want it to go away, as it’s a path I’m not going to pursue.
But more than that, I want it all to magically, instantly happen. I want to be dropped into the set of my own romantic comedy, minus the part of the movie where the couple goes through a rough patch for no discernable reason. And it’s so stupid! It’s so terrible. I don’t even know her!
But god, I like her.
See? See that? That’s the problem. I am interpreting these uncontrolled endorphins I feel when thinking about her as some sort of actual affection, when there is no way that it’s that. And no amount of logic-ing my way around it seems to convince me that these feelings are anything but honest and pure.
I know that they’re not! But It doesn’t feel like they’re not. It feels like I’ve finally encountered someone who I adore.
Let me stress this: I don’t fucking know her. It is impossible for me to actually like her, let alone love her.
But even as I say this, the words that I want to type onto the page are that or adoration. I want to fawn over here.
She’s so pretty. She has these bright eyes; I couldn’t tell you what color they were because I found her so incredibly radiant that it was difficult to look at her face for longer than a few moments at a time. Also, I felt awkward. I always do, and I guess she’s no different from anyone else in that respect, but… God, she’s pretty. She’s beautiful. She’s adorable.
This is what I actually feel like expressing, even though I know that it’s wrong. I feel like fawning over her, and obsessing over her. In a way, I most definitely am still obsessing over her, though I think I’m more obsessing over this desire to obsess over her than anything else. It’s maybe just as creepy. I wish I could stop this, but no matter how hard I try to think my way through it, my brain keeps falling back to one simple thing: she has completely and fully stolen my heart. And for nothing! All she had to do was show up!
And, like… say hi to me. And then sit next to me. And then compliment me and give me a high five.
All of these things are incredibly innocuous.
This is why I’m frustrated with myself. I feel terrible. I feel horrible. I want to wash not just her from my brain, but anyone whom I’ve ever felt this way about. It feels stupid; it feels wrong. I hate it. It’s all fake, it’s all fucking nonsense!
And this is maybe the biggest reason of all I wish something would just happen. It’d be so much easier just to like her than to do whatever it is I’m doing now.
And god, is she pretty.