What do you do when you want something you know you can't have? As glances meet and eyes connect, the link is undeniable. What human being can explain what happens when that link occurs? A jolt of understanding, yes, and vulnerability. Feeling naked. As I look up at you across the smoke-filled room, I am shocked to find you are looking right back at me. You don't flinch, you don't turn away. Hold your gaze like you know exactly how I'm feeling. Those few seconds pass by painfully slowly and everything else seems to swim by. You are a closed book.
A contradiction. You don't look like you're supposed to look. You don't talk like you're supposed to talk. The odd one out, the outsider. Everything ties back to you- you are the link. How did you take this role?
Everything I've built up breaks down near you. My confidence- shattered. You break me down and I fall apart. Am I everything I think I am? And then you come back, offer a helping hand. Maybe, just maybe. But you're good, right? Right?
It aches. A glimmer of hope, snatched away. I'm grasping at air, everything is just beyond my reach. Are you too high, or am I too low? I hate the doubts.
It doesn't matter. Maybe this is how it's meant to be. Maybe I could've been a fly in your web. Maybe I already am.
Or maybe, just maybe, you don't know what you're doing either.
