For the Asexual Awareness Challenge.
This is more of a musing than anything else, and it's written in such a way that it could be any character. I wrote it like that on purpose.
If you review, I'd like to hear who you were thinking of while reading it!
When I see him, I get butterflies in my stomach, and I get all nervous and stumble over my words and then say something stupid and afterward I overanalyze and kick myself for it over and over again, because for some insane reason I care what he thinks, though I've never cared what anyone else thinks – ever. And I don't know what to do about it, but I think that maybe, just maybe, this is what they mean when they talk about "crushing" on someone. But I wonder, how much of this is real, how much of what I'm feeling is real, and how much is just a placebo effect because I want to be normal. In this, at least, I'd like to be normal. I'm used to being strange, out of the ordinary, but I'm not used to being definably strange, and I don't like being labeled.
Still, this fluttery feeling, it doesn't make me normal, because it's all mental, all electrical impulses firing in the brain, and there's nothing hormonal, nothing physical accompanying it, and I can't fake that. I can't pretend that; I can't convince myself that that exists when it doesn't. And if I can't convince myself, I wonder how I'm fooling anyone else, but they don't ask so I don't tell, and we go on our merry ways, and I'm still strange, and I'm still odd, and I'm still out of the ordinary, but I'm elusive, and they can't label me.
And I like it that way.
But the fluttering in my stomach doesn't go away, and talking to him gives me a natural high that lasts for days, and I still want to impress him, want him to notice me, and I know that he does, he notices me, but not in the way that I want. But I don't really know what way I want him to notice me in, so how will I ever know if he does?
I think, maybe, I'm happy with the way things are. Maybe I just want to wish for something and not believe it could ever happen. Because I think if it did happen, if he did respond, I'd get scared and skittish and back away and scare him off, and then I couldn't stand here and admire him without him knowing, because he'd know, and I wouldn't be able to get away with staring at his smooth, simple features or his styled hair, or admiring his brains when he's right and accepting his failures when he's wrong.
Am I crazy? Am I crazy for simply wanting to want something without actually wanting it? It certainly sounds like I am. I don't think I am, though. I think I'm just different, like always.