When a string of simple words are spoken in such an order, the socially acceptable space between us dissipates and the cushioning air quickly vacuums out the room. No facade can hide the truth when it's a moment of unadulterated discomfort. I love awkward moments.
My face flushes and I stumble, even slur my words. My eyes say it all.
Holy. Fucking. Awkward.
I've always been the friendly type, always curious to understand another's world. I often enter without an invitation. This has gotten me quite far and made many of my closest friends and family to date. Other times, it has just gotten me in pure trouble. I'm not unique at all. I learn through crossing boundaries. With my passport in one hand my clumsy ass crosses seas to enter into countries of Awkward... awesome.
Rest assured, I rely heavily on this foundation of confidence long found in between the stumbling blocks. We all trip. It's so simple, it's the most complicated yet because my brain believes it needs to be more of a struggle to grasp. Choice. That's all it is... the choice to be graceful. To look someone in the eye even if they can see right through me. To volunteer embarassing stories because it's all just a condition. The condition of a silent social agreement we all signed along time ago in grade school of what constitues as pleasure and pain. Acceptance.
My obsession with perfection causes echos in my memory like that of a scratched CD. I reiterate conversations and exchanges to live a little longer in the moments we shared. Why I value to cover unnecessary details beats me. But just like that extra bite of gluttony, I sin inside of you.
At the end of the day, I just want what you want. It's hilarious at how we all get to it though. How we all prioritize our lives. How every choice and moment adds up. How we communicate through our eyes, each glance chasing another. Through a simple touch of the shoulder. Through the connecting laughter to the next verbal exchange. I reside.
RY
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