-- The Colour of Wallpaper --
Tuesday January 06, 2004
Scribbler's ramblings: Yet another one-shot! Yay-ish-ness!
Disclaimers: The nameless characters in this not-quite fanfic, don't belong to me.
-=+=-
It's impossible. It's ridiculous. It's so wonderful.
I might actually love someone.
Big whoop. It's happened to plenty of people. Isn't there a way back? (I hope not, I hope I'm chained to this forever, I hope I die with it, I hope that maybe there's a road from me to her to just waltz through)
I can't feel anything else. There's no such thing as cold. There's no such thing as dark. There's no such thing as alone. It's odd, this being in love, because everything seems just about perfect. The shade of the sky, the shape of the clouds, the way her hair flows in the wind, the way her lips are…
Well, you know.
She just so perfect, and I'm so damn dumb.
So I've kept to myself for the past few days. I can't talk to her anymore. It's basically impossible. It doesn't matter, she'll never know (but it does matter!). What could I say to her anyway? How would I put it… I love you? Jeez, I'd sound like such a ninny saying that. I love you and want to have your babies! Oh wait, I'm a guy, that probably wouldn't make sense. Then I'd definitely look like a loser. There must be another way to say it, 'cause other people have done this plenty of times before. But what am I thinking? It's impossible to get her back.
It's impossible to build that waltzing road.
One thing's come from this odd discovery of "ahh, l'amour". I've spent enough time staring at the ceiling and playing connect-the-dots, that I swear I can trace Mona Lisa out of the ceiling. I've also gained a freakish familiarity with my room. Its four walls. Its floor. The ceiling. Every lost sock. Yep, got it all up here.
And I've memorized the colour of wallpaper. Well, not all wallpaper obviously, but just mine. And the more I think about confessing, the more interesting the colour of wallpaper seems.
See, there's a brightness to the blue-ness of my wallpaper. Just like her eyes… Did I just think that? I'm going crazy (about her). And if I look at it really really hard, I can imagine that maybe I'm looking at her, and she's looking right back at me. Not with that anxious look or in fright or horror or whatever, but in admiration. It brings me right back to those times, those special moments…
But I shouldn't be thinking about those. I should get rid of all those memories because they're worthless now. They're useless now. But they're so wonderful.
I'm going soft, aren't I? What was I thinking, bringing her soup (I was thinking I'm in love)? There really was no reason for punching that wall (well, those guys were looking at her funny. No one looks at her that way). And there's really no reason for me to be thinking this hard about … this (about what, huh? Why don't I just say it?).
I've memorized the colour of wallpaper.
The more I think about the time I've spent just thinking, the more I know that I'm wasting my hours away. She'll never love me the way that I love her… So maybe there are things between her and me that just can't be built. So many maybe's and if's and but's.
I just wish she were mine. I wish I hadn't memorized the colour of wallpaper, or played connect-the-dots. I wish I had taken that chance before it was too late. I wish I was out there right now, with her. With her smiling and me being happy. But wishes don't always come true, eh? And I guess that making that wish come true would have me doing more than just lying here and wishing.
I could act. I would act. But you see, there's something that stops me. There's that one thin glass window where I can stare out and just look, just look at her and her happy world. I'm just looking in. Or out. Either way, I'm still just looking. So there's her in her happy place and me locked away somewhere, well let's just say, less than happy. And maybe her world isn't that happy either. Maybe she isn't happy without me. Maybe she isn't happy without the "us".
There I go with those maybe's again. I just can't stop thinking of the possibilities. And the more I think, the more I stare at the wallpaper. The more I remember the colour of her eyes and they way they feel. The more I know her, or at least think I know her.
I don't have dreams anymore. I have fantasies. You may say that there's no difference, but you see, there is. Dreams are reachable. They're somewhere up in the sky and you know that if you just try hard enough, you'll be able to fly and float and do whatever with them. I don't have those. They've basically disappeared, and maybe I'll place new ones up by the clouds someday, but for now I only have fantasies.
What's a fantasy? Well, if you want to be technical, you could say that it's a genre of book. And that's really how I look at it. It's just a genre, it's simply fiction. There's no reality with them. So that's my fantasy. My fantasy with her…
Perhaps I could say that it is a dream. That if I try hard enough, I could reach her, and I could see her and be with her and everything. But that's the thing with being in love. You're so crazy with being in love and so… well, for lack of a better word, bamboozled, that you don't know where your head's at, and you don't know where you're headed, and you don't know anything except for her. Except for she.
Maybe that should make me go. Drop everything and run. Grab her. Maybe I could stop her.
But she just so perfect and I'm so damn dumb.
She's that one person that's so incredibly special, I wish I had never given up being with her. I wish that every second spent with her would be stretched out so that I could memorize every detail about her. Just like the way I've memorized the colour of wallpaper.
I've been in my room for a while now.
Time quickens in my room.
It's warped.
The weeks are months. Seconds, days.
And I've never stopped thinking about her. About how beautiful she is or how perfect she is.
I haven't stopped wishing for that waltzing road.
I haven't stopped hoping that maybe she'd be there.
I have never stopped thinking and wishing and hoping that she would come back.
Come back to me.
I never mentioned it, did I?
She's gone now.
I can feel the alone now.
She left.
And all I have is the colour of wallpaper.
-=+=-
Scribbler's ramblings: And all I have is two songs and an e-mail. Whee! It wasn't supposed to be so depressing, but I guess that my fics always end up in depressing-ness. I can never give the characters the things that they want. Someone always has to be unhappy. Hahahaha.
I'm such a romantic cynic.
I'll leave it to you to guess who the characters and "pairing" are.
Sunday January 11, 2004