The Tortured Soul

You, hopeless romantic.

He exudes Bruce Wayne. He's broken, a little bit. He's not alone, he's lonely. He needs to shave, but you don't want him to. He runs his hand down his face, but his wrists beg attention. His once long hair, why? Why is he looking so good? What is this silence?

But he's not thinking of you, not thinking of love, not thinking of girls - not at this very moment, at least. He has no problems, don't ask him. In fact, he's not thinking of anything.

No, he's not an artist, no, he's not into music, no, he's not into anything you're into - not yet, at least, no, he doesn't have a sad past, no, he's not sad, no, he doesn't need fixing, no, he's not a "bad boy", no, he doesn't have a low voice, and no, he doesn't make two-word statements that cloak him in so much mystery.

He's really just sitting there wanting to be the best.

Shut up and look away.

--
I wrote this yesterday as a joke, for one of my friends. It is about him, and all the hopeless romanticism that movies have drilled into all of us. True story. Sometimes, THERE IS NO ROMANCE.

Comments

  1. 'Projecting'

    She sits with perfect posture, like a trained ballet dancer balancing an invisible book atop her head. She quietly sips her iced tea, blissfully oblivious to the chaos around her. Friends on either side of her attempt to talk around her, before finally switching seats. Her sips are slow and deliberate, perfectly paced to keep herself busy in her idleness.

    Her hair, long and unwieldily, conceals her face. Yet, she eems pretty. Her clean fingernails, though trim, suggest a meticulous air. She's perfect, isn't she? Yet, no one talks to her. Why isn't she surrounded by people vying for her attention? Maybe she's too cool, and her real friends are fashionably late? If so, I should leave her alone. I don't want to be shot down. Or maybe she's shy, and unsociable. If so, attempting to talk to her would be difficult, and probably not worth the effort. Then again, why is she even here? Maybe she wasn't invited to that exclusive party, so she's here to sulk the night away with the rest of us?

    She gets up to leave, carrying her glass. She's sits at another table, away from the bustle. That seems pretty arrogant. What, are we not good enough for her? She fiddles with her phone, and sighs. Her drink is finished, so she munches on the iced-cubes. Maybe she's on a diet? Maybe she's insecure?

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  2. Have I told you how much I liked reading that from both of you? Thank you; it's very encouraging. <3

    ReplyDelete

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OTHER POSTS BY NESSREEN:

iSold Out.

Freedom of Trash-Talk.

Skinny-Mini Me.

So, Oppression?