Securely Insecure
He thinks I don't know. He thinks I can't tell when he tunes out my babbling to get introspective.
I would be offended, except, I get it. Well that, and the fact that I don't listen to what I say either. At the moment I'm pretty sure I'm talking about the virtues of Trix versus Fruit Loops, and really, who gives a damn? So I understand tuning me out, and I know how it feels to not know where you fit. I understand the need to suck it up and keep all the doubts inside. I've always babbled, but talking about the important stuff, that's new to me.
I used to be Insecure Guy. Ironically the one who showed me where I fit ended up taking my title. Now I know where I fit, which sucks for him because he's suddenly the one who doesn't know where he stands. I wish I could tell him that he fits, that he is exactly where he ought to be, but I can't. It's a guy thing.
I can't tell him he belongs and I can't teach him how to shield himself from prying eyes. Somehow I can't see the babbling thing working for him. Not that anything I *say* would matter, because neither of us is listening.
That's the one thing I can do for the guy, fill the silences and pretend that I don't know what he's going through. If anyone should be able to recognize the symptoms of insecurity, it's me. I give him time to think, because he has plenty to figure out. If I was a really good person I would tell him all this, but I won't.
I may not be Insecure Guy anymore, but I'm still insecure. I've graduated to being secure in my insecurity. Insecurity is a part of me, it's just who I am. I'm securely insecure. I've found my place but-
"Seth. You're babbling," Ryan cuts me off mid-word, and mid-thought come to think of it.
I want nothing more than to say, 'You're welcome buddy'. I shrug instead.
Because this wordless word-game Ryan and I play is complicated. We shield ourselves with layers of mystery and transparence and lay ourselves bare.
I really should say something to end this awkward silence. That's my job.
He thinks I don't know. He thinks I can't tell when he tunes out my babbling to get introspective.
I would be offended, except, I get it. Well that, and the fact that I don't listen to what I say either. At the moment I'm pretty sure I'm talking about the virtues of Trix versus Fruit Loops, and really, who gives a damn? So I understand tuning me out, and I know how it feels to not know where you fit. I understand the need to suck it up and keep all the doubts inside. I've always babbled, but talking about the important stuff, that's new to me.
I used to be Insecure Guy. Ironically the one who showed me where I fit ended up taking my title. Now I know where I fit, which sucks for him because he's suddenly the one who doesn't know where he stands. I wish I could tell him that he fits, that he is exactly where he ought to be, but I can't. It's a guy thing.
I can't tell him he belongs and I can't teach him how to shield himself from prying eyes. Somehow I can't see the babbling thing working for him. Not that anything I *say* would matter, because neither of us is listening.
That's the one thing I can do for the guy, fill the silences and pretend that I don't know what he's going through. If anyone should be able to recognize the symptoms of insecurity, it's me. I give him time to think, because he has plenty to figure out. If I was a really good person I would tell him all this, but I won't.
I may not be Insecure Guy anymore, but I'm still insecure. I've graduated to being secure in my insecurity. Insecurity is a part of me, it's just who I am. I'm securely insecure. I've found my place but-
"Seth. You're babbling," Ryan cuts me off mid-word, and mid-thought come to think of it.
I want nothing more than to say, 'You're welcome buddy'. I shrug instead.
Because this wordless word-game Ryan and I play is complicated. We shield ourselves with layers of mystery and transparence and lay ourselves bare.
I really should say something to end this awkward silence. That's my job.