i'm spun

I excel in the realm of the imagined. I would say,it's possibly even my best skill. Making up nonsense,conceiving every possible outcome in my mind,so as to amuse myself,
or just not be surprised by life. but...dagnammit.This,this I had not foreseen.
I am an adaptation,constantly evolving to suit those around me.Molding myself to the specifications required.I can be anything I need be.I am flawed,I am a melting pot filled with remnants of everyone I have met.If I like something,it becomes my own.Like a kleptomaniac of characters.I just can't help myself...or rather I do,all too easily.
I have my own separate part,but that is my own.To share that intimacy,well,it is not a thing I have ever dared do.
And that is what I did not foresee.Because here I am, giving myself over so easily.
I am an honest person,but this..This is everything.
Hurt is why I do this;it is the self same reason I didn't do it up to this point.Hurt changes the course of life.It plays the fool.For the patterns I was forever trying so hard to build into barriers.I realised they could not save me. All the mental labour,all the habits formed.
I search for reality when I live as though I don't want it. On the cusp observing,at what turns out,was not the safe distance I had wanted to believe.But of course like everything.I knew.but did not care.Not for myself.
I have always chosen to suffer,I want to relieve others of theirs,consume it all.
But now,I care greatly.I want this.I usually go along with what other people want.Happy as the silent observer,the confessional booth,the fixer of everyone but myself (I’m becoming far too aware of my overuse of that phrase... myself...)
I'm strong.More than strong.But it’s really fucking tiring.When no one seems to realise, strength needs a break.

And word for word. He repeats my thought.And
as recognition sent a shiver over skin.A warmth.A wonder

I am spellbound.I want to make conversation.I long for it,even the tiniest exchange.His voice has me captivated.Embarrassed,I attempt to hide the pleasure just being in his company gives me.
But I’m transparent.

But still, my words are a lump in my throat. I’m used to not being listened to.Of being accused of being too intense,as though it were a crime..
I fear the rejection.I want it to change.I want to be able to tell him how magnificent I think he is.
How terrified I am.How I cannot wipe the stupid inane grin off of my face at the thought of possibilities I had never entertained as plausible.

I’m spun.