So my safety nets been fraying at the edges for a while now. The holes are getting bigger. And with one big punch to the face, and a couple of exams while they're at it, it'll break completely.
Nerve-wracking hey?
Lets see if someone will employ me, eh?
Monday, August 22, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A.L.E.C.
No, it's not some boy in year eleven. It's Awkwardly Long Eye Contact. Recently, so many forms of awkward eye contact. Having trouble counting. There are two in particular.
I know a boy with beautiful eyes. Wide. Soft. Warm. And I find his gaze comforting. But he never breaks eye contact. I mean never breaks eye contact. Sometimes I wonder if his eyelids work properly. Or whether he's just making sure that he doesn't miss a single detail of what's being done. Maybe that's why its more rewarding to hug him. Because I'm not being so intensely viewed. Like surveillance, almost. Without the judgement.
The second event I have been thinking about none-stop since lunch. I had been playing the piano in Braur hall, and the room had been slowly filling with lunch-eaters. I stood and talked to Bec. She was distressed. This was eased, and some light hearted humour was exchanged from both sides. It was then that a lot of things happened quickly, and in slow motion. I reached out to brush the back of a friends hair. Male. Just got a haircut. You know the drill. He pulls me into a side hug, although a little more affectionate than normal side hugs are concerned. We hug like pros, there is no room for awkward hugging. It was over his shoulder where everything slowed down. For a couple of seconds. I gazed out across the expanse of the hall. Usual suspects filling the surroundings. Apart from one group I was shocked to find there. An individual was looking in my direction. He was looking at me. Watching how I was interacting with my friend. And then turned away. I wasn't quick enough for the shrug off, I had to run over to his group to ask a question. He didn't look at me. And he didn't speak to me.
I hoped for more eye-meetings across homeroom. I hope that I can make coherent sentences next time I speak. But I can't guarantee. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't have the wrong end of the stick. That's all I hope. Or want.
I know a boy with beautiful eyes. Wide. Soft. Warm. And I find his gaze comforting. But he never breaks eye contact. I mean never breaks eye contact. Sometimes I wonder if his eyelids work properly. Or whether he's just making sure that he doesn't miss a single detail of what's being done. Maybe that's why its more rewarding to hug him. Because I'm not being so intensely viewed. Like surveillance, almost. Without the judgement.
The second event I have been thinking about none-stop since lunch. I had been playing the piano in Braur hall, and the room had been slowly filling with lunch-eaters. I stood and talked to Bec. She was distressed. This was eased, and some light hearted humour was exchanged from both sides. It was then that a lot of things happened quickly, and in slow motion. I reached out to brush the back of a friends hair. Male. Just got a haircut. You know the drill. He pulls me into a side hug, although a little more affectionate than normal side hugs are concerned. We hug like pros, there is no room for awkward hugging. It was over his shoulder where everything slowed down. For a couple of seconds. I gazed out across the expanse of the hall. Usual suspects filling the surroundings. Apart from one group I was shocked to find there. An individual was looking in my direction. He was looking at me. Watching how I was interacting with my friend. And then turned away. I wasn't quick enough for the shrug off, I had to run over to his group to ask a question. He didn't look at me. And he didn't speak to me.
I hoped for more eye-meetings across homeroom. I hope that I can make coherent sentences next time I speak. But I can't guarantee. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't have the wrong end of the stick. That's all I hope. Or want.
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