My oddness correlates with your oddness, and it's the most unusual sense of 'home' that I've ever felt.
Because of it, I've found myself quite content when we are in the same room together.
Saying my 'heart skips a beat' when you talk to me sounds so cliché,
but it seems to be true.
I wish I could tell you this in a way that wouldn't make you unsettled,
my anxiety tells me you'll be uncomfortable with it no matter how I say it, so
I'll just write it here for now.
Person # 2:
You are a work of art;
are you aware of that?
Your whole aura leaves me
perplexed yet intrigued.
Somehow you are the definition of grace, but in the most unhinged way.
When you look at me,
I feel as though I matter in the world, though your whole personality screams anathema.
You are just a work of art,
and someday I hope to understand every part of you.
Because we are not very close,
it seems odd to tell you this face-to-face. That is why these words will just stay here for the time being.
Person # 3:
where did we go?
Things were so lovely back in the day,
but everything crumpled before our eyes. When I used to look at you,
I saw hope and someone worth my time. Now when I see you,
I honestly become nauseous.
I am well aware that some of it is my fault- but it's my fault because
I didn't stand up for myself sooner.
Why did it take so long for me to see
how shallow your thoughts really are?
All you were was collateral damage,
and after all this time,
it still affects me,
and it sickens me how
petty I appear to myself.
I don't tell you this because we don't speak, and I'd like to keep it that way.
Speaking is difficult for me. Writing isn't.