It was not the way you looked. Nor the way you dressed; there are those who would look better in that shirt and thin tie. No… it was the intensity in your eyes when you did what you do best; when you were so fully immersed in your passion that everything else disappeared for you. That’s what made you so different… and so attractive. But it also made you unreachable… and it made me envious. You seemed so much more… than me. It made me feel… less. How can one look have that much power?

I was watching you from far away, proud over the fact that you didn’t pay me any notice. People like you are supposed to notice everything… especially the details hidden in corners. But you didn’t see me, and that made you mortal in my eyes. You were just like the others in that sense; you didn’t see me. I could have stood right in front of you… all I would have been for you is a ghost; you would have seen right through me… literally.

It doesn’t hurt anymore. This is just who I am. It’s a sad thing that you will one day fall in love and realize that you fell for someone who cannot reach your depth. You might not get it at first… or at all… but you will feel something lacking. But that’s just how the world works, and girls like me are always special, never The Special One. 

What do I do with all this inside me? Are romantic gestures hardwired in girls? How do I turn it off? I need to turn it off because you looked away, as did all the others. Actually nobody looked away… they just didn’t look… at all. 

If they looked they’d have seen someone who tried to better herself. Someone who observed others’ mistakes so she didn’t make them herself. If they looked they would see someone who cares and tries… because not everybody truly tries. And I always try. Because that’s all I can do.

Unfortunately all they see, if they accidentally see me, is someone who doesn’t succeed. Live in your materialistic, made-up, scarred-with-perfection, elegant world. Leave me out of it and let me prosper here where nobody wants to come. Let me rule alone in this land of acceptance.

Because I am the one who has true depth, not you. And I wait for the day when you will be in my place, enviously trying to reach as far as I have come.

Picture courtesy: blog.yanidel.com
Picture courtesy: blog.yanidel.com

7 thoughts on “Half-Fiction

  1. Sometimes it’s difficult to find the perfect photo to match a half-or-full fiction you write. That’s the moment I miss being a photographer. And I have no words as comments to the original story.


  2. You! You, my friend, have the knack of weaving together words to make sentences that make me go “Oh god, yes! Exactly what I always wanted to say!”
    Excellent write-up! That word actually seems too inadequate. But, take it for now. I’m going to think about this post for all day today, and hopefully come up with better words to describe it. 🙂


    1. Aww thanks buddy! I’m not half a good a storyteller as you are though… I’m trying, and it feels good to know I’m on the right path :).


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