Stop Smiling at Me.

The idea poisoned my mind.
A relentless toxin, violating all that I am.
You want to talk about courage?
How about we talk about strength.
I was always the last one picked in gym class.
I was never strong enough for dodgeball.
What makes you think I'm strong enough for inevitable disappointment?

Courage? Yeah, sure I got courage.
I'm brave enough to get hit by those laughing dodgeballs. I'm brave enough to talk to you.
But I'm not strong enough to take the hit.
I'm not strong enough to be disappointed.
So I ditch class and imagine leading my team to victory.
I ditch class and imagine you skipping it with me.
I ditch class so I can imagine you.

Imagine? No, your real.
You have skin and eyes and veins. You walk, you sing, you smile.
That smile...
Here I am imagining again. Imagining you smiling. Smiling at me.
Smiling at the hilarious joke I just told.
That smile...
That toxic smile that shreds my heart into scattered tears.
That despicable smile that makes me hate myself. Hate you, for doing this to me.

I skipped class for you and now I have an F and now I'm Fat because I didn't get the usual exercise P.E. provides me.

I'm scared of dodgeballs and I'm scared of disappointment and I'm scared of your smile.
You love her and you love your smile and you love dodgeballs.

Don't even try to smile at me because if you do I'll have to start all over again and talk myself out of this once more.

I was the last one picked in gym class. What makes you think this won't be the same.
Think? I don't think. I think too much!
Much as in an un-healthy amount of much.
The amount that makes me want to Supersize that and get Fat all over again.
Much as in, oh wait, I can't finish that sentence because I'm thinking of your smile again.

Okay, I'll go to class.
I'll get beat up and pummeled and disappointed and get picked last again.
Just so I can see you smiling while you throw those dodgeballs at me.

That Smile...


Happy Thursday. Or whatever.