Him vs Her

Chapter 69

Skylar♥ in the wedding dress she never got to wear, or as yet ;)) ^
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My 6am thoughts were: I used to wonder about how stupidly irrational people would act when they were in love. I could never fathom how such madness tool place when the right choice was so obvious. I swear I'd never be so stupid....Ha! I'm such a hypocrite. I wanted to go back to sleep and dream about being in a sunflower filled field not think thoughts that weigh my head down. I dressed up in sweats and got ready to start my day.

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The air felt warm and I felt comfortable with myself for the first time in a while. I always talk like people can't get to me, but they do. A particular incident lead me to the conclusion that the world was a shitty place. And you'd have thought that being 18 years of age, I knew this already and, in some respects, I did, but I'm an optimist, so I also didn't realise how bad it really was.

I swear to god, I was dressed like a boy, like I was most days honestly, but in this occurrence specifically – a ponytail, sweats larger than life and a baseball cap. Some creep caught my gaze and something about his stare made my hands tremble. Little did he know I was thinking something very different than he assumed. I wasn't thinking about sex, not even close. I was analysing all the areas I could injure him, playing scenarios in my head of how I'd escape if it came to it. Just running wasn't an option - I am weak in that area, he'd out catch me. No police station or officers close by? Would if I were to yell really loudly as soon as he tried something? I had to keep all my guards up, ironically, I was wearing headphones decreasing one of my sense's efficiency. I took them off and ran back to my dorm room. Oddly enough, much worse than this has happened to me such as the basics: cat-calling, having cars stop and drive by slowly and have the men inside eye you enough to make you feel cheap and dirty, having men follow me, having men grab my friends and I by the waist at clubs and all the other stories. I couldn't explain or comprehend why this particular incident shook me to my core way more than the other examples did, but it did. I wanted to cry, not because of what happened, not really, but because of everything that bottled up in me up to this point.

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This week, I figured out some things about myself that I never really noticed before. Turns out when you don't have your boyfriend occupying your mind for hours on end – you really get to know yourself, who would've thought?

Side point: but also, who am I kidding, I could never completely get him out of my mind but I sure as hell will try.

For instance, how I hate that doing good things make me smile like 5-year-old whose been given sweets. This very fact does not make me a good person. There's a difference between being a good person and doing good acts. Sometimes I like to stare at my phone when its switched off just to pretend I'm doing something, like I'm busy, like I'm not paying attention to my surroundings, like I'm not anxious, like I don't care – it's a comfort thing that I never realized I did. Other times, I wear my headphones but play no music, usually because I like to listen to other people's conversations, on the bus for example. Some days, it's because I feel like music is a distraction from the world in front of me, and sometimes, I want to face the world.

Occasionally, I watch people and judge them in my head, or make up little stories for why they are here, assess their clothes, expression and what they are doing. I mainly do this to feel like some psychologist deducing behaviours and personalities through observations. I don't really know why I do these things, I only imagine why I might be doing it. I've always wondered what it would feel like to read minds. I tend to think that I am quite good at reading people but reading minds, it's something of an almost devious nature. I'd end up going insane, because we all think things we shouldn't or wouldn't do. Because saying things would make them true or writing them, more permanent but simply wandering about them makes them disappear or burn a hole in your brain, but still, it's safer. Safer than writing them down, for fear of someone reading them – no one can access your thoughts, not as yet.