A Confession by Anonymous Someone

A Confession by An Anonymous Someone

I wonder how often it is that you’re looking at me whilst I’m looking at you. We’re surrounded by people, we laugh casually in local chat when things are humorous, we practice all the formalities. However it’s your face I’m focused on. I’ve examined your profile more than once, hoping to discover something new with each glance, my jealousy piqued when you use exclamation marks and silly faces with others.

I bet you think no one takes heed of you, that you fade into the background. That if you didn’t excuse yourself, no one would notice. You’d be wrong. I take note of your comings and goings, and admittedly I’ve visited certain spots in hopes of finding you there. We could bump into each other I could feign surprise, perhaps a small conversation would ensue.

I’ve noticed you talking to others and I wonder at the discussions being had. Are you talking of the benign or are you speaking of things with deeper meaning? Do they make you laugh? Are you lulled by them when your day has gone wrong? Do they know you better than I? I often want to talk to you, but I worry about the intrusion. Surely, you’re not left wanting for attention.

I’ve thought about you in your day to day life, taking the bits I know about you and arranging them like puzzle pieces. Trying to decipher how it all fits, trying to discern the sum of you. It could be my own ego but I’m certain I see a side of you that no one else does, that can see the tinge of ache within every smile. I won’t be able to remedy your afflictions, but I’d like to soothe, to comfort.

I ponder over the possibilities of you and I, think of all the ways things could possibly align. But you’re often so hushed, so reserved. How would I fit into the hollows of you? Would you be able to fill the chasms in me? Perhaps this is lust, the desire to conquer and own. In truth I know little of you, it is all based in my own ideality. Would it, could it, be all that I desire.

I wonder how often it is that you’re looking at me whilst I’m looking at you. The question looms in the periphery: do you see me, the way I see you? My elusive little dear, hold no doubt, It’s you I seek to claim. And like the spider it’s time to weave a web, time to set about the means to tempt you, to entangle. Don’t be shy my clever darling, it’s time to be consumed.