Who am I? Who the hell is Paige Matthews? I know who she is. She's an
annoying little twit who can't make any decisions for herself. She has to
ask others opinions, which thoroughly annoys them, so they begin to pull
away from her. Everyone is pulling away from me, but I can't say anything-I
can't ask them for anything, I can't ask them why or how... That'll just
make them run faster. That will make them abandon me. But why must I
prolong the inevitable? They're going to leave me anyways. I might as well
leave them alone. I might as well just enjoy their presence without verbal
communication or any communication, for that matter.
Phoebe sits right next to me, her face lit up by the television. Phoebe, do I annoy you? I know that's a very stupid and pathetic question. I just need to know. But I don't want to... I can't handle the truth. Do I annoy you? Do you want me to stop talking to you altogether? I'll leave if you want me too... You can have my room... You can even have that dress of mine you like so much. You can keep it.
Look at me, Phoebe! Smile, tell me how much you love me! Tell me how much you love my company, or tell me how you would miss me if I were to leave forever. Tell your sister you need her as much as she needs you.
Or just watch tv and not read my mind. Does she know how much I act around her? Does she have the slightest idea how much thought goes into every little thing I say to her? That I go through about 20 different versions of 'hello' when I hear her coming downstairs first thing in the morning? I could never tell her. I don't want her sympathy, her cliché words that would automatically be the best response to something like that.
Of course, I love you. Paige! I will always be here for you! Really Phoebe? Well, then can you tell something is wrong? You should know without me having to tell you. Damn you, Phoebe.
Damn you too, Leo. You pretend to like me. You think I don't know, that I can't tell. How can you not know that I know? I barely even look at you anymore. I've forgotten the color of your eyes. The only reason I know Phoebe's eye color is because I look at her when she's not looking at me. I just find myself staring at her, wondering what's running through her head. I don't even realize that I'm doing it anymore. That is, until she sees me staring and smiles.
Piper. Where do I begin? You care too much. I find you just looking at me. I say 'What?" to you at least five times a day. You just smile and return my silly dirty look, maybe sticking out your tongue at me. You confuse me the most. Why do you care? It's all an act, isn't it? You don't know why I've been a bit standoffish lately, so you're looking for more attention. Not because you want it, because you need it. You need me to sympathize with you when you repeatedly tell me about your cold or your headache. Poor you, Piper. Poor fucking you.
Phoebe sits right next to me, her face lit up by the television. Phoebe, do I annoy you? I know that's a very stupid and pathetic question. I just need to know. But I don't want to... I can't handle the truth. Do I annoy you? Do you want me to stop talking to you altogether? I'll leave if you want me too... You can have my room... You can even have that dress of mine you like so much. You can keep it.
Look at me, Phoebe! Smile, tell me how much you love me! Tell me how much you love my company, or tell me how you would miss me if I were to leave forever. Tell your sister you need her as much as she needs you.
Or just watch tv and not read my mind. Does she know how much I act around her? Does she have the slightest idea how much thought goes into every little thing I say to her? That I go through about 20 different versions of 'hello' when I hear her coming downstairs first thing in the morning? I could never tell her. I don't want her sympathy, her cliché words that would automatically be the best response to something like that.
Of course, I love you. Paige! I will always be here for you! Really Phoebe? Well, then can you tell something is wrong? You should know without me having to tell you. Damn you, Phoebe.
Damn you too, Leo. You pretend to like me. You think I don't know, that I can't tell. How can you not know that I know? I barely even look at you anymore. I've forgotten the color of your eyes. The only reason I know Phoebe's eye color is because I look at her when she's not looking at me. I just find myself staring at her, wondering what's running through her head. I don't even realize that I'm doing it anymore. That is, until she sees me staring and smiles.
Piper. Where do I begin? You care too much. I find you just looking at me. I say 'What?" to you at least five times a day. You just smile and return my silly dirty look, maybe sticking out your tongue at me. You confuse me the most. Why do you care? It's all an act, isn't it? You don't know why I've been a bit standoffish lately, so you're looking for more attention. Not because you want it, because you need it. You need me to sympathize with you when you repeatedly tell me about your cold or your headache. Poor you, Piper. Poor fucking you.