It’s not often that one gets to say whatever he/she wants with no consequences. Consequences are a central part of your lives, and they can be both enormous and insignificant. It doesn’t really matter what the cause is; Whether it’s words or actions. In the purest of aspects, intention is what counts. What keeps us from saying exactly what we mean is the fear of consequences. It’s the fear that something terrible might happen when we finish saying what we want to say.
Let’s suppose I’ve found someone I like. Let’s suppose there’s a person in whom I want to focus my romantic feelings in. I could just stride towards her and ask her to go out with me. I could tell her that I think she’s beautiful, and that her eyes are amazing. I’m a sucker for eyes, so I tend to say that a lot. Let’s suppose that I do all this; what would be the consequences? What would I gain? What would I lose?
Best case scenario, she ignores whatever misconceptions she has about me and about the concept of telling someone you barely know that you like them very much. She understands the words I just said are not made-up lies to get her to sleep with me. She ignores most of my physical appearance, ans says “Yeah, ok”. That’s like literally the best outcome.
Worst case scenario, she says no. She acts confused because it’s so out of the blue. She takes into account that I’m fat an unattractive and without the least amount of looks to back up whatever it is I’m doing because she knows only good looking guys get to ask her out. She takes the fact that I said she was beautiful as going a bit too far because only good looking douchebags get to tell her she’s beautiful. I’m sorry, I got carried away.
I don’t even know how long it has been since I thought someone was beautiful. It’s very weird. I should really get a calendar and mark it down, for research and stuff. I’m bombarded everyday with media propaganda of beautiful people kissing and fucking with other beautiful people and not once have I paused my life to say “Wow, she’s beautiful”.
She doesn’t even know who I am. She knows my mask. She knows what I’m like when i pretend to be normal. She doesn’t know I write prose and poetry and music. She doesn’t know that just by existing,she shakes my existence a little. That’s precisely the things i’m talking about. Why am I thinking so deep inside it? Why am I so hopelessly cheesy? “She shakes my existence”? What does that even mean? WHY does that even mean?
Besides, I’ve been thinking a lot about dying lately. I’m not sure where I’m going. Any attempts to make contact with someone are made with the hidden purpose that someone helps me find something to give meaning to my existence, and nobody wants to do that. Nobody knows what we’re here for. Nobody knows if there’s really something driving us to do better and, if there is such a thing as destiny, then I’m destined to think about dying.
So, as I said before, even if I do ask her out and according to the best case scenario she says yes, she’s sooner or later going to find that I’m weird. So weird in fact that sometimes I spend some of my nights writing about how weird I am and how depressive I am and how nothing seems to make sense and how I’m secretly hoping she’ll change that. Then she’ll get scared, like they all get. She’ll leave me, either physically or psychologically, like they all do. Because after all, I’m scary. I’m scary because I want someone, and accepting that you want someone is insecure and unattractive.
I’m stuck in this infinite ellipse of not knowing what I want and now knowing where i’m going. I’m searching infinitely for answers and I’ve got so many of them that I’m already in premature enlightenment and yet I’m feeling scared about asking a girl out. A beautiful girl with beautiful eyes and a nice aura. I’m terrified to death.