I remember what that's like, that electricity that shifts and meddles through the air. There is a single glance that causes a hundred smiles at once, the ones that multiply in your teeth and stretch your cheeks to a different side of the universe you always knew about but never dared to explore. There's an ache when they're gone and a grasp at the last few moments when they're around and a constant replay of words exchanged because when the words are still brand new, they're all you've got to feed from. Somehow, it always ends up being just enough to get by.
People talk so much. Like all the time. Just to hear themselves. I think I blend in well with this persuasion because I am constantly trying to sound like I am not saying anything at all, and not in this way that I'm sincerely trying or putting forth effort of any kind, but it's become second nature to layer warmth with color and disguise any evidence of truth that may linger. I think we all do that. We're constantly hiding from each other, but in a way that makes us shout and practically beg on our hands and knees for attention. When we were younger my sister would tell me I wouldn't have to put on such a show for the people who loved me, and she was right for the most part, though it is still human nature whether it be my second or not. I don't see much wrong in feeding people what they want, even just sometimes.
