Author's Note – This came to me last night and well I wrote it. So I hope you at least enjoy it enough to review
You Have Been Found Wanting.
I want to write, write about things that mean something to me, but they usually come out in words that don't make sense. I want to tell her that she's beautiful and that she takes my breath away, and that I've been in lust with her since the moment I laid my eyes on her. But that seems cliché and I don't do cliché. Except she makes me want to embrace the cliché to its fullest and write a million love songs and dedicate them in her name. But rock hardly promotes the love song ballads and I doubt writing her a rock song would do what I feel any justice. Even writing a simple letter has rendered me utterly useless, I can now positively dub myself 'Chris Jericho the lovesick fool'. How hard is it to write:
Stephanie, I love you. Have for a while. Be mine?
Doesn't look that hard right? Not to the non-lovesick fools among us no and yet when I put pen to paper I come out with poems that come close to sonnets and words that rhyme and flow. Most people wouldn't say that that was a bad thing, but I don't want to woo her with words of false promises. Not that I wouldn't give her the world if she asked me to get it. Right there, it's lines like that that make me cringe, because I know she doesn't love the romantic things in life, she likes the simple and that line about being mine is simple and yet when I'm face to face with her I can hardly utter a pleasant word her way, never mind asking her to be mine. It's ironic isn't it? The woman of my dreams most probably hates my guts because I've reverted to a school boy who is reduced to throwing insults at her left, right and centre. Is it any wonder why she glares at me daily?
I'm meant to be a cocky, arrogant, son of a bitch but if only they knew. If only they saw what she reduces me to, they would surely hide in disgust. I did at the start, I'd look in the mirror and the face looking back at me was this stranger who had appeared over time without my knowledge. Aren't there warnings about this sort of thing, a cure at least? I wish there was a cure, but nothing shy of getting my heart ripped out is going to stop these damn feelings. I'll be Romeo in the end, except I'll die without my Juliet, I'll just plunge that dagger into my heart and be a cold form of the man I used to be.
God that's depressing, really, really depressing. When did the days of going out and grabbing a cold one, finding a girl and having a good night, stop? Oh yeah, the instant I laid eyes on her. Fighting the initial attraction was easy though, it was the damn kiss that hooked me forever. The taste of her lips and the feel of her body flush against me, yeah that was the beginning of this wonderful downfall. Kicking Vince for even suggesting that idea is starting to look better every second that ticks by.
I wonder if I just left my notebook on her desk if she would finally figure out how much she means to me...or would my inane babbling lull her into a deep sleep until the end of time? Yeah, that would more than likely happen, rereading what I write usually has that effect on me, so Stephanie would have no hope whatsoever.
"Jericho!"
And would you credit it, there she is. The woman of my dreams and the cause of this ever running nightmare my life has become. Wow, it appears as if I've become mute. This should be a wonderful, everlasting memory that destroys my mind.
"Just because you've come back doesn't mean you get special treatment. I'm your boss and you will answer me when I call your name. I won't be reduced to calling your name over and over just because you find it amusing. We haven't set your storyline up and I can just as easily have it scrapped if I wish."
Even when she's insulting me, I can't help but marvel at her beauty. Yes, I'm just back – it was pointless leaving, it wasn't like she would leave my mind anyway and finally after a year and endless months of kidding myself I had to see her, so calling up Vince and asking for my job back was the easiest thing I've ever had to do. It sure as hell was much easier to do that than this moment right here of having Stephanie standing in front of me and looking like dawn on a crisp winters day. Yeah, lines like that have got to stop invading my mind. This inner poet is really starting to annoy me.
"Um, yeah s-sorry about that." No, not the stuttering, why do I have to appear like a complete fool in front of her? Really, isn't my inner battle bad enough? See, she notices things like that, she's a McMahon it's in there blood to extract weaknesses. Can't my mouth just open and ask her out. Message to my brain, tell her how I feel! "So a year and a half away and you still look like a slut huh? Some things never change do they?" Oh you complete ass Jericho, you ass! This is not what I want, words are not flowing out endlessly about how beautiful I think she is, no insults are not pretty words. She's going to kill me. Count it down with me, 5 – 4 – 3 – 2- 1...
"I am so sick of this Chris, every time I speak to you professionally you act like this. I've moved on from that stage in this relationship. Why haven't you? Do you take a perverse pleasure in throwing insults my way, when you in fact do not even know one thing about me?"
But I do know everything about you Steph. I know how you like your coffee, how you laugh at jokes that are not even close to being funny, how you love horror films and cannot stick romantic comedies. I know your favourite food, drink and every other thing there is to know that unravels the mystery that is you. I know them because I listen when you talk, you just don't know that I am, but I take every thing about you in and memorise it like a cheat sheet for SATs. Its words like this, in these moments that I wish I could get out, but it's hopeless, I have no clue what happens to my brain and I'm left with the image of her glaring, sighing, turning and walking away.
I hate that she's out of my reach and that if I only tried my fingertips could graze her skin and maybe if they did, she'd stop and turn around and see me for who I really am, that I only hide behind a mask of ignorance and that she could gladly be my undoing. Wouldn't life be better if the things you wished for happened? And yet, I somehow find that I'm left behind in the bitter cold. I'm used to it now though and cold doesn't sting as badly as it once did. But I can't help wanting that warmth that I'm always staring at from the outskirts.
Am I a coward? The definition under any dictionary of that word is: 'One who lacks courage or suffers from cowardice'. I can see glimpse of that in me – I won't back down from a fight when challenged but I won't tell the woman who makes my day brighter what she means to me. And why is that, for fear of rejection? That's more that likely. One day the time will come and I'll speak those words that I so desperately want to speak, I will because I say I will – I just wish that day was today.
Who knows tomorrow might be too late.
And I find myself moving now, towards where she went. Did those words stir something within? I can't possibly be heading to her, am I? No, because if it was that easy, if uttering that simple sentence was all it took, then why did it take me this long? Maybe because I've been fooling myself and the apprehension that someday maybe soon that I could lose her scares me more than the fear of her rejection. With rejection I can say that I've tried, leaving it alone and finding out one day that she has someone she's happy with that isn't me, would just kill me, it's that simple. It would kill me and leave me to wonder about what could have been. What should have been had I taken a chance, and this is that chance damn it.
I find myself looking at her office door and I wonder how I got her so fast, I expected to have time to gather my thoughts at least, but no my brain won't even give me that as I knocks urgently on her door. There's always the possibility that she isn't in and I hope that at least gives me enough time to think what to say...
"Come in."
Before I know it I'm in front of her and she's looking at me utterly confused ad I don't blame her.
"Didn't get enough insults in the last time we met? Had to track me down just to give me those last few you keep especially for me?"
"It isn't like that," I hear myself say and I am beyond shocked that words have actually left my mouth. "The insults don't mean anything, at the most they get you anger at me and the way you look when you're angry just...well it leaves me almost breathless, if you must know." Wow, there's no holding back now huh?
"Excuse me?"
Dumbfounded, that's new. I'm not surprised either, because it's shocked the hell out of me. I expected to ask her to dinner, not tell her things that would make me seem more involved than I should be at this point.
"I'm crazy about you damn it," These words are just falling out of my mouth now aren't they? Can I have a filter please? "I have been for the longest time." Apparently a filter is not available. "You're beautiful. It's degrading to call you pretty because you're so much more than that." She's going to laugh in my face. "I'm crazy about your eyes, they astound me till I'm routed to the spot." She's going to fire me personally. "I came back for you. I came back because I couldn't take another day without seeing you." She's going to retell this story and people will laugh. "I insult you because I'm scared that I'll say too much and scare you away...pretty much like exactly what I'm doing right now." She's going to...she's smiling...at me? "I should just be quiet now."
Silent rooms are never good they never lead anywhere positive, but I can always say that at least I tried, which is more than I can say for my earlier self. If she turns me down, then I gave it my all and that's all I have. That and a notebook full of writing all about her.
"What are you saying?"
What am I saying?
"I'd like to ask you to dinner." Those words are good to get out finally. "If you say no I'll take that and I'll understand."
Again with the silence, I hate silence. I'd rather have the overbearing noise inside my head. They don't appear as cruel anymore, not like silence. It's like its everlasting.
"I'd love to."
Until someone breaks it.
End.
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