songfic
to Radiohead's Creep.
Honestly, the scarling. cover of the song is better.
anywho, tried
not to mention any names. who's who? you decide.
-------
/when
you were here before
couldn't look you in the eye
you're just
like an angel
your skin makes me cry/
he's so beautiful. big soft eyes, never quite perfect hair, as soft as an angels wings. he doesn't seem to notice me. but i'm right here. aren't i?
/you
float like a feather
in a beautiful world
i wish i was
special
you're so fucking special/
i want to see the world through your eyes. all i can see ishatehatehateand the negative sides, twisting everything around until it's a grotesque reflection of my soul. but you...you appear to not do such things. you take a withering flower and smile, and when i'm not looking the flower blossoms. would it be wrong to say i was jealous of it? of all the attention and care you gave it?
a few days later you asked me why it was torn in pieces.
/but
i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo
what the hell am i doing here?
i
don't belong here/
there it is again. that look that you send me when you're with him and i'm there. laughing and whispering and playfully smacking him. i sit awkwardly across the room, pretending i don't notice. do you want me to leave?
/i
don't care if it hurts
i want to have control
i want a perfect
body
i want a perfect soul/
maybe if i'm more like him, you would want me here. you two have much more in common than we ever could. it's sickeningly obvious that with one look, one touch, you can tell what he is thinking. and vice versa. i've tried it, but you just ask if i'm feeling okay. you love him, don't you?
/i
want you to notice
when i'm not around
you're so fucking
special
i wish i was special/
today you ran out of milk. i tripped over myself in my haste to get to the store. when i got back, you were sitting on the couch, slender hands holding up a book. that only reminds me that you hardly - if ever - touch me. do i scare you?
"...did you go somewhere?" you ask in that soft, perfect voice. i simply nod, holding up the grocery bag. i can't open my mouth in fear those three words i've been holding inside come out. it hurts so much to know you didn't even notice i left.
/but
i'm a creep, i'm a weirdo
what the hell am i doing here?
i
don't belong here
i don't belong here.../
i have to leave. you understand, don't you? i understood today when you went somewhere without saying a word, leaving me to wander the house afraid that you left me forever. i have to leave before i start hating you. hating you and how wonderful your world is without me. hating him too, and how his arms protectively wrap around you, as if mocking me. oh, you never realized how many times i longed to do that too, did you? perhaps it's for the best. i won't say anything to you - i'll just pack my few belongings and leave, leaving your house the way it looked before you held out that thin hand to me in the rain. i know if i say anything to you you'll protest, even if you do want me to go.
goodbye. perhaps we'll meet another day, or perhaps we won't. either way, my leaving will not be dramatic; i'll close the door and be on my way.