Captivate Me Captain

You are enchanting. I don't know if you know that. I think that you do, I think that you have to know it to some extent, the effect you have on people. You're confident, and that kind of confidence only comes from someone who is sure in themself. You are very sure in yourself. And why shouldn't you be?

I spend all my time hoping you'll talk to me. Waiting for you to appear. Desperately wishing you'd notice me. It makes me feel pretty pathetic. But I keep doing it anyway.

I think you're so cool. Everything about you. Your haircut, your clothes, the tone of your voice, the vocabulary you use and the things that make you smile.

You're sweet, genuinely kind, and that's strange to me, and nice, and it draws me to you, just like it must draw everyone to you. You're magnetic and you're warm and I want to feel it, want you to light a fire in my toes and make my soul come alive again. I want to be close to you.

You're beautiful too. The first time I saw you, I only stared at you; I couldn't help myself. You stopped me dead in my tracks. How do you manage to look so good, no matter what you wear, no matter when I see you. You always look just lovely.

I like you and I'm not the only one and I get jealous when I hear people say your name, or talk about you, or say that they like you too, because so many of them do. They like you and they're probably more deserving of you and you probably like them too. But you don't understand how long I've been waiting for someone like you to come along. I might be broken and strange but I've been waiting for you. I've been waiting for your smile and the sound of your voice. I've been waiting for the pictures you draw and the plaid shirts that you wear.

I spy on you. I'm not creepy normally, I swear, but sometimes it's like you invite me in. You leave your door open, and with that the door to yourself, who you are, and I can't help but be drawn to the color and the light. There are pictures and animals and fabrics and music and dancing and laughter, so much laughter. Do you blame me for wanting to go inside?

You like coffee, like me, and you use the word "rad" in a way that's not ironic. You look so absolutely heartbreakingly good in just a t-shirt and jeans. Sometimes it seems like you might have a tattoo but now I think that you don't, and honestly, I don't even care. You don't need tattoos. You're an artist, that was obvious the first time I saw you and then again when I ran into that night in the art building. You were at home there. But you seem at home everywhere here.

You float on your back in rivers, you hail from Africa and you talk to God. You seem to like sleeping almost as much as I do and you're looking for adventure and you took your first steps in Paris. You talk about your professors in the sweetest way, about how you like them so much and how much they care and how lovely you think it all is. You're smart too. You sing everywhere you go and it doesn't even annoy me like it normally would, I just find it charming like everything else about you.

And you talk to me. You don't have to talk to me but you do and when you do, I feel so good, I feel like I have found the wild animal, stumbled across it in all of the beauty of its wilderness home and I am, so close, so close to touching it, to leading it home with me. I have been searching for this creature all my life and finally, here it is, I see it and I can barely breathe for fear I will scare it off.

You notice me too, I know that you do. That night on the streets of Buffalo, we locked eyes and I think- am I crazy, but I think- you were there. You were there with me. Maybe you just notice me staring at you but if you took all of our interactions and collaged them into a home video with sad sweet music in the background, it would just be eyes and burning stares. I bore holes into your back, I feel you smoldering the side of my face.

You know what? The music would not be sad and sweet, it would be slow, and haunting, and it would do what your gaze does to me. Lock eyes with me. Stare at me. I will stare back. A song will be playing in your background that starts off soft but builds, it builds so loud and powerful that I am overwhelmed, overtaken, captivated.

Captivate me, I dare you.

Still A Jerk

Hey thur guyz.

I want to post because I'm back at school and I realize it's been way too long since I've written here [or written at all] and I feel very guilty for that.

How are things? Things on my end are pretty alright. I'm back at school like I said and have been since the end of August. Classes are in full swing. Mostly, I just have a lot of reading to do, but I'm a good reader when I actually do it, so that's not so bad.

Money is tight. Old prejudices against certain classmates have not lessened much with time. There are still people I will always wish I was cool enough to talk to, but know I never will. Some of the faces I grew used to seeing, even looked forward to seeing, have disappeared. The coffee is sweeter, the freshmen are intriguing, the classes are less intimidating. I do have more friends than I did before. It's so true what my friend Hannah told me once, that freshmen are at their most vulnerable that they will probably ever be in their lives. I was talking to some friends of mine yesterday and we all agreed- freshmen year was killer. It was difficult and exhausting and scary and just hard. So far this year feels a lot better and I hope to all goodness that it stays that way.

I've been here a bit over a month now, and I'll admit I've had some rough days. I don't know if it's because I have a disorder or if I'm just a lazy scumbag, but sometimes the prospect of a full day ahead of me is just so purely overwhelming. I still sleep a lot, too much. I still do dumb things like don't go to class in favor of napping and drink caffeinated coffee even though I know the effect it's going to have on my mental state, and occasionally allow myself to sleep through church, and spend money on frivolity and do homework in chapel and get by just by the skin of my teeth. I still disagree with a lot of school policies, I still get scared when I work out and I still eat way too much cereal and never enough protein. I still have trouble being honest and even more trouble being terribly friendly. I still think about love too much and sex too much and I still get really confused about all of it.

I think a part of me thought that after last year there would be no one left at this college I would be interested in. Unfortunately that's not quite the case, surprisingly so really, but it doesn't actually honestly matter.

I still have a bad haircut and generally shaky self-esteem and I still would rather invest more time in crap TV shows and the perfecting of my Sims 3 family than on an actual, terrifying relationship. I still have bad days and good days and I still don't know where I'd be without medication and a fairly lax schedule. I still don't write enough and I still think about leaving too much and I still almost never do my laundry. I still just stare at enchanting people instead of talking to them and I still cheat on my pathetic promise to get to the gym at least three times a week. I still write papers just hours before they're due and I still care more about completing my iTunes library than maintaining some sort of stellar GPA.

Basically, I'm still a jerk in all senses of the word.

But I'm trying, truly I am, and overall, I'd like to say I look down a little less when I walk to class and I make a little more effort to get the assigned reading done before class and I'm a little less self-conscious and internalized and a little more smiley and goofy.

And that is progress enough.