Person

There’s a person I envy. Now, I hate genders, so let’s just stick with “person”. This person could be a girl; this person could be a boy, a man even! Maybe even a woman. I’m afraid that if I tell you, it would ruin the point I’m trying to emphasize.

I’ve known this person for less than a year, and already I feel as if I’ve known them my whole life. Though, this person believes that I know nothing about them, that I’m just a strange girl that has barged unexpectedly into their life without any warning, ruining the peace they had just recently found in the foreign country they had been forced to inhabit.

The fact that this person doesn’t love me as much as I love them is heartbreaking, but I’ve adapted to the feeling of not being wanted in their presence. I know when the time is right, and when the time is wrong to be around them (but I don’t respect this as much as I’d like to). It may seem selfish, but every day I end up trying to be around this person as much as possible. Whenever I have time for myself, I ignore what I could be doing for my own benefit, and go to this person. Even though this person might not always want me around, I end up refusing to leave for very obscene reasons.

I feel used, at times, when this person is fulfilling nothing but sexual needs when they are in the mood to return the affection I show for them. But, being the pathetic little girl that I am, I mistake their lust for love. Usually, situations like this are understandable when this person hugs me on a Tuesday, but tells me to find someone else to bother on a Wednesday.

This person is capable of things I would never imagine. Things such as being able to hide emotions, or expressing themselves in ways everyone wishes they could. This person is capable of showing the inner intellectual of them, but of course, by being able to hide emotions and whatnot, they’re probably hiding a lot more intelligence under their hard rock skin.

I’ve never witnessed this person cry; I’ve never witnessed this person show one bit of grief, depression, or the slightest disappointment. Not that I want to… but it would make them seem more human to me, more human than perfect.