two: captain's confessional

my life is a loaded gun. i can vividly remember being in high school and always crossing my arms so that their inside faces were always hidden. i wore hoodies for the sake of them having long sleeves. even today, i cross my arms to hide my past.

playful touching is a somewhat awkwardly restricted action. from what skin tone can hide, touch can reveal secrets that i don't want you to know. i slide my left hand under the shoulder portion of my shirt to feel what's still remaining. i know what it feels like to not want to be touched.

there are so many hidden facets in plain view, but i alter my nonverbal communication to keep them from your eye.

if i ever made you laugh, i want you to remember that.

if i ever crossed the line, i want you to tell me that.

if i ever offended you, i want to be told that i did.

if i ever did anything that was not part of a mutual agreement, i want you to condemn me.

if i ever gave you less than the utmost respect you deserve, i want it to be known.

if i ever failed to give you attention, i want you to tell me that i was being selfish.

if i ever made you cry, i want my feelings to be torn.

if i ever lied to you, i want to be criticized.

if i ever falsely assumed you of something, i want to be scorned.

if i ever was deceitful, i want to be retaliated against.

if i ever complimented you, i'd like you to acknowledge that.

i am a very reserved person. combined with an anxiety-laden head on my shoulders, i don't expect to be respected nor communicated with. i will talk with purpose, but also poor delivery. i value the substance of words and the emotions they evoke. i am not a nice person. i am selfish, undeserving, and pretentious. i have allowed these negative traits to diffuse across my entire brain, slowly creating the mass of anxiety i hold today. i cannot find satisfaction in anything that is not another person. the substance that casual conversation holds satiates me like no other necessity. my personality is great defined by the text i consume. i am not a highly-refined individual.

i only create media for myself to consume. all other eyes that lay a glance at these convoluted fragments of text merely see it as entertainment. it may be ambiguous and sporadically constructed, but there is a purpose.

i've been constantly wondering if you're honestly telling me the truth. if there's a conversational filter at all between what we say and what we mean. ideally, i'd like to be there while we grow old and live our lives, i just wish that i felt as if i deserve to be alive to see it.