Cain and Able

Much as I hate to admit it, I feel that I can no longer deny that there is much of you in me.

I am terribly ashamed of pleasure and I am quite sure I have you to thank for it. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, that is until I had to go and defy destiny by presuming myself perfectly capable of being happy by leaving and trying to live my own life. That one promise so inherently conflicts with the premise that I find I am incapable of dealing with it. You always covered your mouth when you laughed pretending you were coughing, not that it was often.
I always lower my eyes.
I try and tell myself it is a sign of misplaced modesty until it occurs to me, 'I hate false modesty'. At least I claim to do so often enough.

I enjoy the company of boisterous, complex and often brash individuals who flaunt their hearts and heads on their sleeves but I never do so. Now I cant’ help but wonder if it is because I am still ashamed. The funny thing is that I do manage to write in a manner of who it is I wish I could be: funny and smart. This usually ends up sounding contrived, manipulative and borrowed. Perhaps because it is.

I like someone.

There... I said it and I have never said it before, so I know how big a sentence it is.
Smaller than almost all the ones I put to paper, but larger than the whole lot combined. I met him last year and I vehemently avoided him like your voice in my head told me I should. I never met his eyes and I was predictably prickly and quiet. You would have been proud. I never shared a single conversation with him, but spent many-a-minute staring at him over the cover of my book. I think he may have caught me on one occasion and the moment he did I was deeply ashamed.
I wasn’t embarrassed, or curious, or playful and flirty…I was overwhelmingly ashamed. Like I was somehow dirty and evil.
According to your established modus ponens I probably was.
You were wrong about me not being a good student, as it so happens I turned out a sponge.

Lucky for me, I can’t really harbor much regret over the entire episode, purely because he could never have been the kind to have been even remotely interested, which perhaps is why I found him interesting. The regret comes purely from the realization that you and I are still inextricably intertwined. More so now that you are away, because you somehow managed to worm your way permanently in my head and have taken up residence in the general neighborhood of my conscience. If they want me, they better knock me down. Because I promise you I’m not easy and won’t be until there’s hollowed ground. Which, we both know, neither of us believe in.

So I am doomed then, aren’t I?

Doomed to never take chances and dance around delicious possibilities.
Doomed to want.
Doomed to wait.