Love the Unloved

The cursor bar blinked. It was always blinking at her, waiting for some sort of amazing combination of words that would explain any of the thoughts in her mind. They never came until after-wise. Whatever came to her mind at the time was just babblement and she couldn’t risk loosing face.

Cursor blinking, more frequently than what she would allow her eyes to blink. She was watching, and couldn’t miss a thing. Watching him unleash, unload. Just thinking about it that way made it sound like she was watching someone’s personal porn. It kind of was to her, watching this person say all of the things that other people were thinking, breaking boundaries and pushing people to their limits. He obviously got off on it; it’s what he is known for. Then she got off on him, overwhelmed by his sense of confidence and unruly ability with words.

He got too much attention and she would watch it all. Picking at people’s flaws, reiterating their past mistakes, flaunting people’s pain as a badge of honor. He was a cycopede, a hotbed of knowledge, and all of it used to scavenge for human misery. Too smart for his own good, and he didn’t give a shit. The world wasn’t ready for the words he’s spoke.

Guy, this person who had caught her attention. It wasn’t rare for her to be a victim of someone’s illaqueation, but this was different. He was different. Unlike anyone she’d ever fallen for before. Thinking of him made her queasy, but she couldn’t stop herself from embracing her curiosity of him. He gave her so much to latch on to, so much to relish inside her mind. She trapped herself in longiquity to be with him the only way she knew she could. He wasn’t hers and probably never would be, but it didn’t matter much to her at this point. She was in, deep, and she adored the feeling.

Sitting there, watching words unfold on screen between Guy and someone else, she kept fantasizing their destiny together. Picturing a time and place, with the two of them, where she wouldn’t be overcome by her maffled words, and he would be fiercely gentle. It would be at night, in a parking lot in town or at the beach during a bonfire. He would notice her first and purposely put himself in her view, and then she would have control. Or maybe she would take control from the beginning, for once. Then what would happen?

The cursor bar still blinking. Notifications of new messages appearing on the screen at rapid rate. Her eyes moving back and forth across the screen, her arms folded, her jaw set. Everything around her was still and at ease, accept for the screen in front of her and the mind inside of her. She was dreaming, imagining what could be…