Twice Shy

You ever think you were single for no reason and then you meet someone and realize you’ve been waiting for them without knowing it?

I never want anyone to hold me again if they don’t hold me like this.

I’m not that strong at all but for you, I can be strong enough.

During an argument that we had,” he tells me, pitch low, “you called me beautiful. And an insufferable ass. But beautiful. I haven’t gotten over it.

Not to be dramatic, but I would rather drink battery acid than be in the throes of a crush.

I think you are beautiful, too, Maybell. I think that you walked into my life and absolutely ruined it with how beautiful you are.

It’s so much easier to pretend I have a personality where I don’t have any words for anyone, that I don’t care to, rather than not being able to find them.

I want to be commanding, stern, intimidating, but I am raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. My resolve is dandelion fluff.

I think he’s under a curse—if he laughs, he’ll die. This is a sensible explanation to me. It isn’t that I’m not a joy to be around, it’s that he’ll literally die.

Cardigans are my kryptonite.

be able to just get up and leave if I wanted, for whatever reason, without grabbing people’s attention. Without being asked questions, and having to explain something I myself don’t entirely understand

I hate restaurants, because when I sit at tables I feel trapped. Something about sitting down across from someone and it being socially unacceptable to leave at any moment makes me panic.

Your problem is that you love everything.

It's been too long since I've felt heard by anyone.

get nervous about communicating with them because they don’t know me yet, and they don’t know the issues I have. I’m putting all my energy into trying to present myself as normal, which I get into my head about. Whether it’s real or not, I can’t stop imagining that they’re judging me. Which makes it worse. My mind goes blank, and I just . . . I can’t find the words. I freeze up. It’s mortifying when the words won’t come. It’s so much easier to pretend I have a personality where I don’t have any words for anyone, that I don’t care to, rather than not being able to find them.

For someone as beautiful as you are, it's a shame you're such an insufferable ass. I'm not that bad, you know. You are constantly turning your back on me, ignoring me when I'm around like I'm a punishment to talk to, and it makes me feel like shit. You make me feel even lonelier than I already was. Whatever! I won't bother you anymore, then. Go ahead and be alone.

those who deserve to be in my circle will like me just as I am, and will treat me the way I deserve to be treated.

He looks utterly wrecked in the most wonderful way.

He's the most beautiful human I've ever seen.

Our next period of silence descends naturally, but if I shone a flashlight over all the dark space that surrounds us, it would illuminate a hundred lingering words.

I would like to touch you,” he says faintly. “If that’s okay.

I want to say one thing, be a certain way, but it gets all tangled up on its way out of my mouth. A pumpkin trying to be flowers and coming off like a cactus. It's frustrating.

It bothers me. There’s a stigma, especially for guys. Especially for guys who are about to hit thirty. It’s not that I want to be a . . . you know . . .” He can’t bring himself to verbalize it. “But it’s hard to meet people when you have social anxiety as bad as I do. I panic. Or I want to say one thing, be a certain way, but it gets all tangled up on its way out of my mouth. A pumpkin trying to be flowers and coming off like a cactus. It’s frustrating. “You’re much more flowers than you are cactus,” I tell him, meaning every word. I hope he believes it. “But for what it’s worth, pumpkins are the best.

I’ll grow you some real ones, if you like.

But it’s hard to meet people when you have social anxiety as bad as I do. I panic. Or I want to say one thing, be a certain way, but it gets all tangled up on its way out of my mouth. A pumpkin trying to be flowers and coming off like a cactus. It’s frustrating.

I want to believe there are still wonders out there left unspoiled

I don’t understand that thing you’re wearing. Your top is attached to your shorts. How do you go to the bathroom?

It was hidden behind a heavy floral curtain that I’d assumed was just another window. I’ll never trust a curtain again.

A bruise. You hurt yourself?” On the door, while imagining him naked. It’s what I deserve. “No,” I reply quickly. “That’s probably just a shadow.