Is it fair to say that people that write are “people watchers” by nature, or is that stereotyping? Okay, fine. People that write well keep their eyes open to the world around them and take it all in. It’s all in the way they focus on the little details and pick up on patterns. Better? Alright, glad that one is settled.
I’ve always liked to play the silent observer. The lack of words doesn’t speak to distress or a lack of enjoyment. I just want to take it all in before I interject and influence the situation. I don’t believe in small talk to fill the silence as it just distracts from what other stimuli I can take it. Now don’t worry, this isn’t like a creepy sex thing or anything, I just like to watch, observe. I’m far less comfortable with being watched equally as intently, though.
Watch
“One of my favorite things to do is just get her super high and then interject her into situations and see where it goes. She gets like we do watching people.”, words caught between laughter but forcing their way out regardless as he watches me take a long hit before heading in.
Holy shit, they were totally right. These already hospital-bright lights are super fucking bright when you walk back in here baked. I look around the room trying to get a hold on who is still around. The thing about Firehall parties is that no matter what you’re celebrating or which hall you’re in or whose family it is, they look the same. Glancing around, reality and memories intertwine as I see glimpses of past family parties and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because this feels just a little bit like home to me. Wow, I probably didn’t need that last hit but check it out, everything really is connected, huh?
“Oooo, what was THAT one?” pulls me fully back into reality as my gaze fixed on his face, searching for the way his eyes widen each time he says that. A smile creeps across my face and my bottom lip sneaks its way between my teeth as my eyes settle on his.
“I said nothing.”, my go-to excuse when my expressions betray me.
“Nope, but your face did!”, paired with a smile, raised eyebrows, and a brief lean forward as he rolled onto the balls of his feet.
Honey, I am willing to tell you anything but the fact that you are this incredibly exciting calm for me and I’m staying present but I really wouldn’t be upset if the future looks kind of like this too. If we weren’t in a room full of your family right now, I’d grab your shirt and pull you into me as I kiss you. It’s absolutely my favorite answer to give you. All I can manage is a smile and deep sigh before I instinctively look away for a moment, holding back. I am getting closer and closer to the truth slipping out every time I see him but it feels like a risk I’m willing to lean into.
I’m normally a faster learner than this but I just can’t get used to the way his gaze is always still fixed on me when I finally turn back. Rarely asking for an answer but always watching, taking in whatever I’m doing. I can’t help but wonder what it looks like from his perspective. I really wish I hadn’t sat an inch away from the mirror and poured over every detail of my face. That is all I can picture you seeing and I feel weirdly exposed.
Often, my gaze will drift to somewhere new in the room finding a point to focus on. When I’m done taking in the scene, instinctively my eyes drift back to find him. I think of it like Homebase, a grounding tree. I feel safe, comfortable, and immediately forget that I’ve been quiet, awkward, and watching this whole night. When I find that his eyes had already been settled on watching my face I wonder if it was an again kind of a thing or still.
I surprise myself by realizing that either way, I don’t mind. You see, I’ve been playing this game with myself. I am determined to remain unchanged under observation. So far my attempts have been unsuccessful. His attention inevitably sets me into a fit of giggles, smiles, and losing my train of thought. The feat, though, is the fact that I’m still here. I’m not running. This is just the right level of uncomfortable and I’m leaning into it.
I keep telling myself he’s only observing and there’s never judgment. Neutral spectator. The looks I get tell me otherwise but lead me to believe it’s positive judgment so I lean in harder, closer. Don’t forget that people can’t know you if you never give them the opportunity.
Much love, until next time.
Madeline May I... 